


You Can't Just Turn Back Time

by whatdoidowiththisthingnow



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: 13 Going on 30 AU, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-04-29 15:36:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14475783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoidowiththisthingnow/pseuds/whatdoidowiththisthingnow
Summary: 13 Going on 30 Sanvers AU, because why not? :)





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will catch up to the movie shortly, but there was a little extra backstory to tell first.

Thirteen-year-old Maggie Sawyer rushes around her tiny pink bedroom—a color she hates, and her parents refuse to paint over, so she’s covered as much of it as she can in movie posters, magazine covers, and glow-in-the-dark stars clinging to the peeling paint with bright blue sticky tack.

She gathers her homework and textbooks from around the cluttered room, and when a song coming from the boombox in the corner catches Maggie’s attention, she immediately drops everything and throws open the window.

“Alex! Alex it’s on the radio now, hurry up!”

Alex stumbles in front of the window. She was in the middle of taking off her pajama pants, then tried to pull them back up in a hurry. Her leg catches, and she falls flat on her face.

Maggie tries—and fails—not to laugh at her best friend.

“Turn it up!” calls a voice from nowhere.

She does as she’s told, carefully pulling the boombox closer to the window so the sound goes outside, instead of inside—where she’ll probably get in trouble.

 _Wannabe_ blares through the window and Alex immediately pops up with her face scrunched in disgust, “This song is dumb.”

Maggie crosses her arms with a smug, dimpled grin, “Nice undies.”

Alex looks down at herself, her cheeks burn red, then she quickly drops out of sight.

She pops back up a few seconds later, with jeans now pulled on and buttoned.

“You just think it’s dumb because everyone else likes it.”

Alex rolls her eyes, “Ready in five?”

“Yep.”

Maggie flips off the radio, grabs her backpack from the bed, and runs out the door and downstairs to the kitchen. Both of her parents are sitting at the table eating breakfast.

“Whoa, whoa, kiddo. Where are you going?”

“School,” she answers simply.

Her mom arches a questioning eyebrow, “School? So early?”

Maggie tries not to flinch, even when her stomach sinks as the lie comes easily, “Alex and I are getting there early so she can tutor me in Geometry.”

Her mom lifts her chin with one finger, and eyes her carefully, “You’re _already_ getting an A in Geometry, Margaret…”

She rolls her eyes and tugs her backpack up a little higher, inching closer to the door, “That’s because she’s tutoring me. Duh, Mom…”

She slips out the side door before her mom can ask any more questions, and runs down the driveway to meet Alex.

Maggie greets her with a hug, and Alex hands over a strawberry Pop-Tart, “Kara’s _supposed_ to be hurrying,” she huffs.

She shrugs, “She probably is.”

“Doubt it.”

She never understood Alex’s annoyance with Kara. Sure, she had just shown up a year ago, and the Danvers’ adopted her out of the blue. They were both used to being only children…but Kara tried.

Poor kid. She tried so hard to fit in, and be like everybody else, and get Alex to like her…maybe Maggie related a little more than she realized.

“Helllooooo??? Mags?”

She snaps out of her daze, “Yeah. Sorry. Still, uh…tired.”

Alex doesn’t look like she believes her entirely, “Movie night at my house tonight? Kara’s sleeping over her friend’s.”

“Yes!” she answers automatically. Then she remembers, “Wait—no. I can’t tonight. My dad and I are going to the baseball game. Early birthday present.”

Alex frowns, “Oh. Ok.”

“What about Saturday night?”

She grumbles, “Kara will be there…”

Maggie’s grin turns devious, “We can watch _The Mummy_. Then she’ll leave us alone…”

She loves any kind of horror/thriller/suspenseful movie. She loves being scared. She also knows Alex only pretends to like them, in order for Kara to leave them alone.

But she’s been dying to watch it, and it _would_ get Kara to leave…

Alex crosses her arms, “Ok, but if I scream—we’re telling Kara it was you.”

Maggie nods in agreement and then drops the subject entirely, because Kara’s right behind them.

“Hi Maggie!”

She hugs her too, “Hey, Kara.”

The three of them walk toward the elementary school first, to drop off Kara for 6th grade, and then cut through the park towards the middle school.

…

They’re still way too early, so they slip into the Biology classroom, where the teacher is cool and no one will bother them, and flip through the _Seventeen_ and _Poise_ and _Sparkle_ magazines that Alex buys with her allowance and Maggie’s mom refuses to let Maggie own.

“I can’t believe your mom lets you buy these magazines. My mom would never. She wants me to be a kid forever.”

Alex shrugs a little, “I don’t think she even notices me. Not since Kara…”

Maggie gives her a sympathetic look, “She notices, Alex. Remember when we tried to sneak a whole case of root beer into your room last week? She definitely noticed.”

Alex softens slightly, “I guess…”

“And last summer, when we thought we could build our own treehouse,” she laughs, “I think it’s safe to say she noticed that too.”

Alex tries not to laugh, “I still say it would’ve worked!”

Maggie remembers being trapped up in a tree, with a “safety” rope around her waist, arms vice-gripped around a wobbly branch, too scared to climb down or move—and it was starting to get dark.

“Ok, I know you think you could’ve held me, but Alex—I still don’t believe you,” she laughs harder.

Alex laughs too, “I’m strong!”

“I know.”

“I passed the Presidential Fitness Test in the top of our grade!”

“ _Everyone_ passes that test, Alex.”

“Fair point,” she agrees, “I guess every once in a while it pays to have an obnoxious, tattletale little sister…”

“Kara can be obnoxious, but she loves you. And you love her too. I hear you guys sometimes in your room—” but then Alex’s cheeks turn pink. Maggie tells Alex everything, but she wonders if that was a secret she wasn’t supposed to know, “Just sometimes. And never _what_ you say, I just…I can hear you talking to each other. Laughing.”

She straightens her books and looks away, “Yeah…I guess we get along sometimes,” she mumbles.

Maggie tries to change the subject. She holds open the magazine, “Thirty and flirty and thriving. I want to be thirty.”

Alex raises and eyebrow, “Thirty? I’d want to be…maybe eighteen. I would love to skip all of high school and go right to college.”

“That would be awesome.”

“Thirty is too old. I’d miss everything and be boring like my mom.”

Maggie laughs, “Well that’s not very nice.”

“But it’s true…” Alex grins.

Maggie can’t argue with that. The bell rings, and she has to go, “See you at lunch?”

“Can’t. French tutoring.”

Alex Danvers—smartest kid in the school…and still wanted a tutor.

“8th period then? English?”

“Yeah! And don’t forget to actually _do_ your essay during lunch. It’s due today.”

Maggie grins as she slings her backpack on one shoulder, “What would I do without you, Al?”

Alex rolls her eyes, but smiles, and Maggie heads out to her class.

…

On Saturday night, surrounded by every spare pillow and blanket in the Danvers’ house, and a pile of snacks from the convenient store a few blocks away, Maggie is watching the movie, and Alex is…mostly hiding.

Maggie tosses an empty package of Dunkaroos into the trash and grabs an unopened cherry Squeezit from the table behind her. She uses it to poke at the pile of blankets next to her, “Alex, you’re missing the entire movie!”

A hand reaches out and snatches the drink, “I hate you, Maggie Sawyer.”

Maggie bites back a grin, and wraps her arms in a quick hug around Alex—or the bundle of blankets where Alex’s muffled voice is coming from.

“It’s not that scary! It’s…history! You like history!”

The Squeezit points her direction, but her aim is off—she’s scolding Maggie’s left shoulder. She tries not to laugh.

“I _do_ like history,” she says pointedly, “…but I also hate you.”

She did pretty well, all things considered. But then the movie got a little scarier, and Maggie’s not sure when the last time she even saw her face.

They hadn’t even made it to the part where the beetles crawl under the people’s skin, or when the mummy cuts out the guy’s tongue and eyes—it really _wasn’t_ that scary, but now, she thinks…maybe the movie is a little scarier than she originally thought.

She carefully puts the half-eaten bowl of popcorn up on the table behind her, then Maggie pats down the pile of blankets until she finds the remote. She turns off the movie and flips through the channels until she sees the familiar black and white.

The sound of canned laughter makes the pile of blankets shift, and slowly, Alex’s one eye peers out, then the other—followed by her whole face, now grinning, “But you hate this show…”

Maggie lays back into the pile of pillows on the floor, and when Alex lays down close at her side, something in her stomach flutters. She tenses for a second and blinks, but the yelling from the TV snaps her out of it again, “I don’t _hate_ _it_ , Al…”

Alex elbows her side, “I guess I don’t hate you either.”

“I know…” she shoves her back, “big scaredy cat.”

The tickle fight that ensues lasts until the beginning of the next _I Love Lucy_ episode.

…

When Maggie wakes up in the morning—she’s always up before Alex, no matter when they fall asleep—she looks down at her sleeping best friend a few feet away, and shakes her head a little.

The smartest and toughest kid she knew—and she was scared of lame movie effects.

Alex’s long, brown hair is covering her face, and Maggie laughs because she looks like Cousin Itt. She reaches out to brush it back—and something deep in her chest thumps.

She pulls her hand back quickly, and crosses her arms tight around her middle.

“Alex?”

Maggie’s head whips around, and Kara is standing barefooted at the bottom of the basement stairs in her matching frog-print pajamas.

“Shhh…” she waves her over, “She’s asleep.”

Kara nods and walks over toward their cocoon on the basement floor, “Eliza left to get more milk, but it was creepy upstairs alone.”

Maggie wonders if having a sibling means you scare more easily—but her parents also never leave her unsupervised, so she wouldn’t know.

She rearranges some of the blankets, and Kara snuggles in between the two of them, “Maggie?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I annoying?”

Maggie snorts, but Kara’s eyes are big and watery, and she really doesn’t want Mrs. Danvers coming home to Kara crying, “No, Kara. You’re not annoying. Why would you say that?”

She shrugs a little, “Other kids say that. _You_ say that. Alex says that…”

Alex blinks awake and sits up slowly, then wraps both arms around Kara and pulls her close, “You’re my little sister, Kara. Of course I’m gonna call you annoying. But no one else is allowed to, ok?”

Against Alex’s chest, Kara nods. Maggie’s heart swells.

“I love you, Kara.”

“Love you too, Alex.”

Maggie catches Alex’s eye and mouths, “Told you!”

Alex rolls her eyes, and unwraps one arm from her little sister to shove Maggie back into the pile of pillows.

…

Later that morning, after Maggie gets home from church with her parents, she’s up in her room changing back into jeans and a t-shirt. She peers out her window to the Danvers’ house, but the window is shut and curtains closed. So either Alex isn’t home, or she’s in one of her deep study sessions.

Maggie takes a library book off of the pile on her desk, flipping it over to the back cover as she flops onto her twin bed. She was in a hurry last time they were there, so she’s not even sure what it is. She skims it, but it’s not a summary, it’s an excerpt. She might as well just read the book, then.

She makes it seven pages, and then slams the book shut in her hands and bolts upright.

The book is about a high school senior, and Maggie’s pretty sure her mom would kill her if she knew. Even though she starts high school next year, her mom insists there’s this “huge difference” between eighth and ninth grade. Maggie thinks she’s crazy.

But that’s not why she stopped reading.

That last sentence she read echoes in her head, “ _Does that mean she was gay?”_

So this is a book about… “Huh,” she whispers to the empty room.

There are no gay kids in her school—or none that she knows of, anyway. She’s kind of heard people talk about it or use slurs to make fun of kids, but she doesn’t think she knows anyone who is actually gay…

The book wasn’t terrible, though. Now she’s curious. Maybe she could just…keep reading it?

Maggie opens the book slowly, like the word “gay” is going to jump out at her and bite her nose. It doesn’t—and as quickly as it’s mentioned, it’s gone again.

She keeps reading.

…

On Monday morning, her alarm screams in her ear. She groans and reaches over to shove it on the floor.

“Maggie! Time to get up!” her mom chirps.

She mumbles something incoherent and rolls off the bed. The book falls onto the floor at her feet. She kicks it further under the bed, because occasionally her mom comes in her room when she’s not around, and she’s not taking any chances.

It was well past midnight when she finally fell asleep. She read about half of the book, and found herself relating a lot more than she had ever anticipated—it was terrifying in a way that no scary movie had every been, but she couldn’t stop.

She rummages through her dresser, pulls on a pair of Mudd jeans and a Hollister t-shirt, and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She’s feels weird. Different.

She tilts her head a little—to make sure she at least _looks_ the same—when something flies through the window and pings the wall.

Maggie startles, and then hears a familiar voice, “Jawbreaker.”

Thank god the window was open. They _may_ have been responsible for a cracked window or two over the years. Skittles were usually their go-to, the jawbreaker probably would’ve done damage.

Alex has her elbows propped up on the window with a big grin on her face. Maggie’s insides flutter.

“Got a date, Sawyer?” she teases.

Her stomach lurches.

“Shut up. No. Of course not.”

That was too strong. Too many words. Alex notices.

She puts her hands up, “Ok…sorry…” she backpedals, “Outside in five?”

“Woke up late. Ten?”

Mischief flashes across Alex’s face, “Still dreaming about that date?” she teases.

Anger and fear lick through her insides. She slams the window shut and closes the curtains—but not quickly enough to avoid the hurt on her best friend’s face.

…

Turns out Maggie didn’t need ten minutes. She didn’t even need five. She was out the door in record time.

She runs the entire first block, and is halfway to the school when someone falls in step next to her.

It’s Alex.

She looks around, but she doesn’t see Kara anywhere. Strange.

“I’m sorry,” Alex mutters.

She sounds sorry, at least. Then she hands over a Pop-Tart and smiles a little, “I was just…but it wasn’t funny. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Maggie takes the Pop-Tart from her, then takes a huge bite so she doesn’t have to say anything else.

Alex takes the hint.

She walks by her side into the school, but she doesn’t push. She doesn’t ask any more questions. She doesn’t say anything else at all.

…

During third period study hall, she’s distracted. She was trying to do her science homework—evolution—when she saw _Homo erectus_ and rolled her eyes remembering the boys in her class stifling laughter.

Suddenly every muscle in her body tenses in panic. She now thinks that maybe she was very wrong about what they were laughing at in the first place.

Stupid. She’s so _stupid_. Such a baby.

She thought it was the second word…now she guesses it was probably the first.

Maybe it was both. Boys are dumb.

_Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species._

Maggie repeats it like a mantra in her head, trying to block out any other thoughts. Plus, she has a quiz next period.

_Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species._

_Kingdom, phylum, class…class…_

Like science class. With stupid boys, who laugh at stupid, immature jokes…

“Idiots,” she mutters to herself.

She didn’t like any of the boys in her school. She never had a crush on any of them. Was that normal?

More and more, it felt like all girls did was whisper about their newest crush to their friends. A few people even “dated”—although she’s not entirely sure wandering around the mall unsupervised was cool enough to be considered an actual date. She did that with Alex.

_Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species._

_Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family…_

Family. Her family. Her mom and dad. What would they do if…

But she isn’t.

She takes a deep breath. She doesn’t have to worry what they would do because she’s not…she doesn’t…

“I’m not even allowed to date anyway,” she mumbles.

The librarian shoots her a look, and she sinks further into her chair. She slams her science textbook shut and opens her history book instead.

…

Alex sits next to her at lunch, but still says nothing.

Maggie feels bad. She’s not really mad at her, she…she doesn’t know why she snapped. She apologizes, “Sorry, Al. I stayed up too late reading and I was tired. I’m not mad at you.”

Alex shrugs a little, “What were you reading?”

She swallows hard. Alex reads as much as she does. Probably more. She has to lie, “Harry Potter.”

“Again?”

“Yeah…well the movie is coming out this year, so I wanted to reread it.”

They could talk about Harry Potter for hours: magic, wizarding school, best friends saving the day, magical creatures—it was easy to get lost in that world.

The conversation starts on a whole other tangent, and in no time at all, they’re back to their usual selves.

…

Right before the final bell rings to let them out for the day, an announcement comes over the PA system to inform all the students about an upcoming dance in a few weeks.

It’s all anyone talks about.

Out in the hallway at their lockers, the boys are suddenly eyeing all the girls or avoiding them completely. The girls are blushing, lining the halls in little clusters, whispering furiously.

Alex finds Maggie at her locker and leans against the one next to it, “Sounds fun, right?”

She snorts, “The _dance_?”

Alex shifts between her feet, and her cheeks turn a little pink, “Right. It’s dumb. I was kidding…obviously.”

Great. Twice in one day, she’s hurt her best friend’s feelings.

“Sorry. No, it’s not dumb. It could be fun, I guess…” she admits. She shoves a couple textbooks into her backpack.

It probably could be fun. If the kids she didn’t like weren’t invited.If the school actually allowed them to wear spaghetti-strap dresses, or listen to music they actually liked, or if it wasn’t in the smelly gym…Maybe.

If it didn’t suddenly feel like every boy in her grade just got an open invitation to flirt with her. 

If it were just her and Alex…

“Are you ok?”

She jumps again, and shuts her locker,“I’m fine. Let’s go. We’re going to be late getting Kara.”

…

Maggie’s never kept a secret from Alex in her life.

This isn’t even a secret…it’s…it’s nothing. It’s a dumb book she grabbed without looking, and then her curiosity got the better of her. That’s it.

Going to the dance with Alex…that _would_ be fun. Because they’re friends. Best friends.

Right? Right. That’s all it was.

Side-by-side, on the swings outside the elementary school, she watches Alex.

Alex leans back, stretching her arms out, closing her eyes, and letting her head fall backwards. If her hair wasn’t braided, it would be dragging in the sand underneath—but she knows Alex wouldn’t care anyway.

She’s been friends with Alex Danvers for as long as she can remember. Her parents moved into their house when Maggie was two, and the Danvers’ have lived there even longer.

Back then there weren’t fences between the houses, so both of their moms would chase their toddlers around, usually wandering away in search of the other, until slowly, a friendship was born.

The Danvers and the Sawyers are good neighbors—they collect the mail when the other goes out of town, their dads hand beers over the fence during backyard cookouts, their moms swap recipes—but they’re not good friends. They’re ok friends.

Maggie and Alex, though? Maggie and Alex were inseparable.

They differed on a few things, and in the last couple years, it seems they started to differ on a few more things, but it didn’t keep them apart. They always worked around it.

“Alex?”

She opens her eyes and sits back up in the swing, “Yeah?”

“We’ll be friends forever, right?”

The look of concern on her face makes Maggie nervous, but then she smiles, and a familiar warmth spreads through her, “Best friends.”

“What if…what if I want to join the circus? Tame lions?”

Alex grins, “Then I’ll be an acrobat,” she says easily.

Maggie beams, and for the first time all day, it feels like she can breathe.

They’ve played this game forever. A game of what ifs. A crazy imagining of their future that always got more and more ridiculous, and usually left them both in a fit of giggles.

“What if I was a movie star?”

“I’d be a director, and put you in all my movies.”

“Scuba diver?”

“I’d learn to drive a boat.”

Maggie tilts her head, “Can you ‘drive’ a boat?”

“Steer?”

“Captain!”

Alex laughs, “I would _captain_ the boat.”

The bell rings and kids start pouring out of the school. Maggie feels a hand on her back, and only then does she realize Alex got down and started pushing her.

“What if I was a zookeeper?” Alex asks.

“I’d be one too. I’ll take care of the penguins.”

“I’ll take the elephants. No! Giraffes.” Alex pushes her higher, “Mad scientist?”

Maggie thinks, “Frankenstein!”

“He _is_ the mad scientist!”

She tilts her head upside down and sticks out her tongue, “Smartypants. Fine. I’ll be Frankenstein’s monster.”

Maggie can see Kara walking toward them, so she waves.

“What if I was a pilot?”

“Then I’d make you take me _everywhere_!” Maggie jumps off the swing at the highest point, as she shouts the last word.

“MAGGIE!”

Now laying in the grass, she opens her eyes and stares up at the sky. In two seconds, Alex appears with her arms crossed—and a second later, Kara appears with a matching look of disdain.

She smirks, “Crashed the plane. Not a great pilot, Danvers.”

Both sisters extend and arm and pull Maggie to her feet, and Alex rolls her eyes.

Kara looks between them both, confused, “You crashed a plane?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She raises her eyebrows and then walks away, “You guys are weird.”

Alex and Maggie share a look, then burst into laughter. Kara looks back over her shoulder and shakes her head.

…

Halfway home, Alex brings up the dance again.

“You don’t think it would be fun?”

Maggie shrugs, “I don’t know. I don’t like dancing.”

Kara and Alex stop dead in their tracks, and Maggie nearly runs Kara over.

She looks between them, “…what?”

“You _love_ dancing!”

“And you’re so good at it!” Kara adds.

Maggie shakes her head, “That’s different. Memorizing the steps to _Bye, Bye, Bye_ in your bedroom is not the same as dancing at a school dance.”

“Why not?”

Because you have to dress up, and go with someone, and everyone in the school is keeping track of what you’re wearing, and who you came with…and then there are slow dances.

What would she do if someone asked her to dance for a slow song?! Sweaty boys, with clammy hands, standing so close? Barf. No thanks.

She shrugs, “You’ll understand in a couple years, Kara.”

Kara looks at Maggie like she’s nuts, and then to her big sister. When Alex gives her a small nod, Kara turns around and starts walking again.

Maggie still can’t always figure out their secret code.

When Kara gets a few houses ahead, Alex takes Maggie’s hand and starts walking.

“I just thought…maybe could go together.”

Her stomach flips and twists at the same time—a lot like it does when she watches a scary movie—the thought is both exciting and terrifying.

Alex’s hand is in hers, and she’s so close to Maggie’s side…but Maggie likes being this close to Alex, and her hands aren’t clammy, and she’s definitely not sweaty.

She was one of the only girls in their grade who wasn’t obsessed with Juniper Breeze or Plumeria Bath and Body Works, but now that she’s thinking about it…Alex smells good all the time.

“You want to go…together?”

Alex laughs, “Well, yeah. Who else would I go with?”

…

After dinner there’s a knock at the door. Maggie races down the stairs, “I got it! I got it! I got it!”

Her dad playfully reaches for it, and as she tries to shove him away, he tickles her side, “Daaaad!” she giggles, “ I—I said I got it!” She barely gets the words out between breaths, and he wraps one arm around her waist and spins her in a circle.

He reaches for the door again, “Nahh…I think it’s for me,” he teases.

“Daaaddd!” she whines.

He shifts so she can’t reach the door, and then swings it open, “Ah! Miss Danvers. Here for movie night?”

“Dad!” Maggie groans, “Why are you so embarrassing?!”

“Leave them alone, Oscar,” her mom scolds from across the room.

He wraps Maggie in a bear hug until she stops squirming, then plants a kiss on the top of her head, “It’s my job to be embarrassing.”

Alex tries not to laugh. As soon as he lets her go, she grabs Alex’s hand and takes off upstairs to her room.

Safe in Maggie’s room, Alex flops onto her bed, and Maggie closes the door behind them, “I swear, he’s the _worst_.”

Alex laughs, “I think I’m used to it by now.”

Maggie rolls her eyes and sits on the bed next to Alex, “So…do you really want to go to the dance?”

She shrugs, “I think it could be kind of fun.”

“Well if you go, I _guess_ I’ll go too,” she concedes.

Alex grins, and it lights up her whole face. Maggie’s insides flutter again, and she wraps her arm around her stomach tight. Luckily, Alex doesn’t seem to notice.

Alex rolls off the bed and heads over to the bookshelf, flipping through CDs.

“What are you doing?”

She plucks a CD out of the pile and pops it into the boombox beside her, “If we’re going to the dance, we might as well practice…”

The intro to _Bye, Bye, Bye_ starts, and Maggie laughs, “Nerd.”

Alex just shrugs and holds out her hand for Maggie to join her, “Takes one to know one.”

She hesitates for a second, but gives in. Alex pulls her into the middle of the room and spins her around.

They know the playlist on the mix CD by heart, and dance their way through the whole thing.

It takes about three songs until Alex grabs a sequin top hat from Maggie’s closet, from a tap recital when she was six. Then Maggie changes into her Sporty Spice costume from a few Halloweens ago. By the end of an hour, Maggie’s room is a mess, both of them have changed about eight times, they’ve given each other exceedingly ridiculous hairstyles, and cartoonish makeovers to match, and Alex has taken about 15 different Polaroid’s.

Before she goes home for the night, Alex gathers the pictures into a small pile while Maggie cleans up her room, “Hey, can I have some of those?”

She blushes slightly, “Oh, um…no?”

Maggie’s a little stunned, “Oh. Ok. Sorry…”

“No, no! It’s just…um…you _can_ have them, but not today.”

Now she’s confused, “…ok?”

Alex looks at her feet, like she wants to say something but she can’t, “I just…need them for your birthday present—but I’m not telling you what it is! It’s a surprise.”

Maggie immediately starts wondering what that could be, but she won’t ruin it, “Ok, but can I keep one?”

Alex thinks about it for a minute, “I guess.”

She flips through them, until she sees the one that cracks her up the most. She holds it out for Alex’s approval, “I want this one.”

Alex immediately starts laughing too, “Yeah, sure. You can keep that one.”

…

Late that night, Maggie lies in bed staring at the ceiling.

She can’t get the day out of her head. Alex on the swings, Alex asking her to go to the dance, Alex taking her hand, dancing around her bedroom, the flutters in her stomach she never noticed before today…

Were they always there? She doesn’t know. But they sure don’t seem to be going away.

She slips out from under the covers and tiptoes across the room to her desk.

The photo of her and Alex is stuck onto the mirror, and she smiles. That flutter in her stomach happens again, but this time, she doesn’t try to stop it.

Alex is her best friend. She likes spending time with her. If that means…

Well, she doesn’t know exactly what that means. She’s never had a crush before. Does she have a crush on Alex? Maybe.

But she knows one thing: she wants to go to the dance with Alex, and Alex wants to go to the dance with her too.

Maggie opens the top drawer of her desk, grabs a pack of gel pens, a sheet of stationary, and a matching envelope, and she starts writing.

…

When her alarm goes off in the morning, she’s forgotten all about the letter.

She meets Alex and Kara out front, splits the package of Pop Tarts, and the day goes more or less like the hundreds of others before it.

…

After school, Maggie and Alex stop in Maggie’s front yard, “See you after dinner?”

“Can’t tonight. Dad’s coming home from his work trip, so it’s family night.”

Alex says the last two words with an eyeroll and Maggie nods, “I should probably study anyway.” She pulls a crumpled package from the pocket of her backpack, “Razzle?”

“It’s both a candy _and_ a gum!”

Maggie shakes a couple into Alex’s hand, and shoves the package back into her pocket. She backs up a few steps down her driveway, “Arrivederci!”

Alex gives her an exaggerated wave, “Au revoir!”

…

If she had been paying attention, she would’ve noticed that both her parents’ cars were in the driveway, even though her dad usually isn’t home for another hour.

If she had been paying attention, she would’ve noticed how quiet it was when she walked in the house, when most days her mom is busy in the kitchen and asks about her day as soon as she opens the door.

If she had been paying attention, she would’ve realized the photo from last night was no longer stuck to her mirror.

But she wasn’t, and she didn’t.

She walks upstairs to her room, and throws her backpack on the bed. Then she turns around to get a snack from the kitchen—and nearly has a heart attack.

Her mom is standing in the doorway, still and silent.

“Jesus, Mom. You scared me!”

The answer is automatic, “You will not use the Lord’s name in vain.”

Whoops. “Sorry. I…” but then she notices her mom’s face is…different. Sad? Hurt? She’s not sure, but something’s wrong, “What’s wrong?”

“Come downstairs.”

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it scares her. Did something happen? Did someone die? Is someone hurt?

Her mom turns down the hallway, and Maggie can’t find her voice, so she just follows behind obediently.

She’s led into the kitchen and her dad is sitting there with his arms crossed—still, silent. It’s unlike him. He’s usually much more animated. Her mom could be strict, but her dad was the pushover.

She’s pretty sure Superman couldn’t push him over right now.

“Margaret, sit down.”

She does—and she knows she’s definitely in trouble: he called her Margaret.

In her nervousness, she starts shaking her leg up and down, wracking her brain, but she can’t figure out what she could have done.

Her mom sits next to her dad, and they don’t even look like her parents right now. Like aliens have taken over, or they’re robots controlled by an evil supervillain.

She really needs to stop watching so many horror movies.

Her mom places a small purple envelope in front of her face, and her voice is hard, “What is this?”

…

If Alex hadn’t been helping her mom and Kara prepare dinner, she would’ve been in her room with her window open, and she would’ve heard yelling next door.

If the Danvers weren’t in the middle of a loud Monopoly-related shouting match a couple hours later, they would’ve heard a door slam, and a car pulling into a driveway, and a lot of crying.

But she wasn’t in her room, and they didn’t hear a thing.

…


	2. Thirty, and Flirty, and Thriving...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting to catch up to the movie plot now... :)

After Alex wakes up and gets dressed, she opens the window wide. She grabs a Skittle from the jar on the windowsill and tosses it expertly at Maggie’s bedroom.

It pings off the glass, and bounces into the driveway below.

Strange.

Maggie’s usually up by now, and her window is usually open. Maybe she overslept again. She was probably up late rereading Harry Potter. Nerd.

“Alex! Breakfast!”

“Just a sec, Dad!”

She tries again, but the second Skittle follows the one before it, and no one comes to the window.

Alex grabs her backpack and heads downstairs.

“Five minutes?” her Dad asks, even though the answer is the same every day.

She hesitates, “Uh…yeah. Five minutes.”

He hands her a glass of orange juice and a package of Pop Tarts, then Kara appears and slides into the chair across from her, “I know, I know. Five minutes. I’ll eat fast, I promise.”

She says that every day, and she’s always late. Alex drinks the juice and swipes the Pop Tarts, “I’ll be outside.”

She stands out in her front yard and stares at the Sawyer’s house, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s home. Both of their cars are gone too.

Kara’s runs across the yard before stopping at her side, “No Maggie?”

Alex shrugs, “Hang on…”

She walks up to the Sawyer’s front door and knocks. She waits, but no one answers.

“Maybe she’s sick?” Kara asks.

It’s possible. Still…something seems off, but she can’t figure out what it is, “Yeah…maybe…”

She takes one last look up at Maggie’s room, “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

…

At school she waits for Maggie at her locker, but when the bell rings, Maggie still hasn’t shown up.

She doesn’t show up at lunch.

And she doesn’t show up in English class.

Alex waits for her sister after school, then walks home in silence while Kara babbles nonstop about whatever new sixth grade drama happened that day.

When she gets home, she goes up to her room and sits at her desk by the window. She tries to pay attention to her homework, but she’s mostly waiting and watching, and hoping for her best friend to appear.

Even when Maggie had the chicken pox, they would still talk through the window. It’s weird for her not to be around at all.

“Alex?”

She blinks awake—still facing out the window—and realizes it’s dark now. She must’ve fallen asleep at her desk. When she looks over her shoulder, her mom is there.

“Everything ok, sweetheart?”

No. Her best friend is missing. Ok, maybe that’s a little dramatic… She’s probably just sick, or had a dentist appointment or something.

“Just tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”

Her mom brushes the hair from her face and kisses her forehead, “You missed dinner. Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”

“I’m fine.”

…

For three days, Maggie doesn’t show up in the morning. Alex never sees her in school, and she never sees Mr. or Mrs. Sawyer next door. It’s like the whole family vanished.

She considers asking her mom and dad, but it never seems like the right time, and every way she phrases it in her head sounds stupid.

The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach grows.

On Friday night, she leaves the rest of her family in the living room while they watch some movie she can’t pay attention to. She sits in the corner of her room, staring at Maggie’s unfinished birthday present, and she starts to cry.

“Alex?”

“Go away, Kara.”

She hears the door shut quietly, but when she turns to look, Kara is standing inside her room, “…Alex?”

She wipes her tears away roughly, but it’s no use—more take their place in an instant.

“Alex…where’s Maggie?”

She wants to scream. She wants to yell at her sister to leave her alone and go away and never come back.

But Kara’s voice is small, and scared, and quiet. And when she kneels down beside her, Alex notices she’s crying too.

“I don’t know, Kar.”

“Can we call her?”

She fights the urge to roll her eyes, “I tried. No one answers.”

“Do you think Eliza or Jeremiah know what happened?”

She shrugs.

Kara sits in silence for a few minutes, staring at the present in front of Alex, “Is this her birthday present?”

“Yep.”

“When is it?”

“Two weeks.”

Alex was almost done with the gift, but it still needed a few finishing touches. Now she wonders if she’ll ever get to give it to her in the first place.

Kara picks up a handful of photos and magazine clippings from the floor and sifts through them, “Can I help you finish it?”

She doesn’t need the help. She’s not even sure she wants it. But she’s been so alone the last few days, and she doesn’t want to be alone any more, “Sure.”

 

Early Saturday morning, she hears a garage door and her eyes pop open. She carefully lifts Kara’s arm and slides out from under the covers—they must’ve fallen asleep in her bed last night after working on Maggie’s present.

She tiptoes to the window and sees Maggie’s dad taking out the lawnmower. As she slides it open and sticks her head out, she can see her own dad walking up to the fence.

She’s not sure what she expected, but the shouting match that starts is definitely not what she had in mind. She closes the window and runs down the stairs barefoot, straight toward the back door—but her mom wraps two arms around her and pulls her close to her chest, “Alexandra, _no_. Stay here.”

She tries to fight back, but her mom’s arms wrap tighter. She looks up at her—ready to argue—but to her surprise, her mom doesn’t look angry. At least not angry at her, for once…

Alex stops fighting back, “Mom?”

Her dad walks into the kitchen a second later and the back door slams behind him— _he_ looks mad.

“Eliz—” but as soon as he sees Alex there, he stops and takes a deep breath, “Alex, go up to your room with your sister.”

“But dad—”

“Just go. Now.”

Her mom releases her, and she opens her mouth, but can’t bring herself to say anything. She goes back to her room and sits down next to her little sister, who’s eyes are barely open.

The argument that starts downstairs makes Kara wake up, “What’s going on?”

Alex hugs her knees, and shrugs.

A few minutes later, their parents voices die down and there’s a knock on the door. Her mom opens it slowly, “Kara, go downstairs for breakfast.”

She squeezes Alex’s arm, but does as she’s told.

Eliza sits on the end of the bed, and says nothing for a long minute. Alex knows something happened with the Sawyers, and she knows it has to do with Maggie—but she tries not to cry, “Mom, is she ok?”

“She’s…she’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

Alex knows that’s a half truth. Like when she asks her mom if she’s going to take a long time at the grocery store and she says _I only have to get a couple things_ —it sounds like an answer, but it really isn’t.

“Can I talk to her?”

Her mom frowns slightly, “Not right now. I…I don’t know where she is.”

Alex’s insides suddenly feel ice cold, “Then how do you know she’s ok?” her voice shakes more than she’d like, but she can’t stop it.

“She’s staying with her aunt for now.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated, sweetie…”

…

“Hey, Smidge?”

Maggie blinks awake, and the unfamiliar room and the unfamiliar face make her jump. She ducks a little under the covers.

This bedroom is small and plain, with pale blue walls, a small wooden desk and dresser, and a bed with some boring white blankets.

In one corner, on a grey chair, is her backpack and the one bag she was allowed to pack. It has mostly clothes, a few pictures she had in a box, the library book she’s been hiding, and a couple random things she could grab in the time before her aunt picked her up.

The past few days come flooding back to her in seconds, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to break down in tears or throw something—both of which she’s done the last few mornings.

Her aunt is sitting at the foot of her bed, with a hand on her shin, “Good morning, love.”

Maggie narrows her eyes.

Her Aunt Christina is actually her favorite of her mom’s sisters. She was the youngest—and by far the coolest—the one who bought you candy in the check-out lanes, and could easily be talked into trips to Toys R Us, or now that she was older, Claire’s and Hot Topic (although she still covered Maggie’s eyes through some of the aisles there).

But right now, she hates everything about her. She hates the way the house smells, she hates this bedroom, she hates the way her aunt keeps calling her “love” or “smidge” or other stupid baby names.

She wants to go home.

But the thought of that one word immediately knocks the wind out of her. It feels like drowning. It feels like she can’t breathe.

The panic must show on her face because her aunt’s arms reach out to her in an instant—but Maggie shoves them aside and jumps out of the bed. She goes as quickly as she can across the hall to the bathroom, and turns on the shower before her tears start.

She can buy herself a few minutes, at least. Her aunt won’t bother her in here.

When she finally emerges a while later, her aunt is in the kitchen sipping coffee, “Maggie?”

She refuses to answer. She hasn’t said one word in three days. But even so…she stops and waits for whatever she’s going to say.

“Maggie, you have to go to school today.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but after three days…she’s not even sure she remembers how to speak.

 

Her aunt drops her off, and because she lives on the other side of town, they’re nearly late, “I’ll be back to pick you up after school, ok?”

Maggie just blinks.

Christina sighs, “Just…nod if you heard me, please?”

She nods once.

“Alright. I’ll see you at 3. Try to have a good day.”

She shoves her way out of the car before her aunt can say anything else.

Inside, it feels like any other day. Like nothing happened. Like she’s the only one who’s life was suddenly torn apart and flipped upside down. Like no one even noticed she was missing at all.

“Maggie!”

Maybe one person noticed.

That voice is the most familiar one in her whole world, and it relaxes her for half a second—until her brain catches up and tenses all over again, “Go away, Alex.”

She hardly has to glance up to know how hurt Alex’s face looks. She leaves her stunned, in the middle of the hallway, and once again, Maggie feels like she messed everything up.

Every word is wrong. Every feeling is wrong. Everything she does…wrong. It’s all wrong.

Three days of silence isn’t enough time to erase all the words that were screamed at her.

She pushes past a group of kids in the hall, straight out of one of the back doors, and finds herself outside the building, somewhere she’s never been before.

Maggie makes it three steps before she slides down against the brick wall, and tears start streaming down her cheeks.

“Gotta light?”

Her head snaps over at the voice from nowhere, and she looks up to see a girl she’s never seen before leaning against the wall with a cigarette in her hand. A girl who looks way too effortlessly cool to have ever uttered a single word to Maggie.

She holds the cigarette out to her, “You know…a lighter? Matches? Anything?”

Maggie shakes her head.

The girl sighs and slips the cigarette in her pocket, “Next time, then.”

And just like that—she’s gone.

When the bell rings, Maggie wipes her tears and heads back inside to her first class.

 

She skips lunch because she’s called into the guidance counselor’s office. It should’ve made her mad, but she didn’t know how she was going to avoid Alex in the cafeteria.

Sitting in silence for 40 minutes while old Mrs. Newman spouted lines that had to have come from the dozen or so pamphlets in her office was actually a welcome relief.

 

After 7th period, she’s walking to her next class, but once she can see into the doorway, her stomach sinks.

Alex is sitting there reading a book—but even from here, Maggie can tell she’s watching the door. Waiting.

She backs down the hallway, makes sure no teachers are around, and slips outside through the same door she found this morning, trying to steady her breathing.

“You know…if you’re gonna make this a habit, I’ll need to make sure you’re not a snitch.”

Sure enough, the same girl from this morning is out there again.

“Eliza Wilke. Gym.”

Maggie stares blankly, but the girl seems to be waiting for some kind of response. She finds her voice, and thankfully it only cracks a little, “Maggie Sawyer. English.”

…

When the final bell rings for the day, Alex races to Maggie’s locker and waits. Maggie spots her from the end of the hall, and looks trapped. When she finally starts walking toward her again, Alex breathes a sigh of relief.

Maggie looks mad, so Alex says nothing at first.

She watches her swap out all of her books, and slam the locker shut—and then she has to say something or Maggie’s going to leave and she may not get another chance.

“Maggie, I’m sorry…”

Her mom told her vaguely about what she thinks happened…although Alex suspects there were worse things that her mom either doesn’t know, or didn’t tell her.

Maggie crosses her arms, “Whatever.”

She turns to leave and Alex runs to catch up, “Wait! Hey!”

She doesn’t slow down, she doesn’t turn around, she doesn’t wait.

Alex’s legs are longer though, so she can match her stride, “I didn’t—I mean, I _did_ …No. I _do_. I want to go to the dance with you, Mags, I just—”

Maggie spins around quickly and shoves Alex, hard, “SHUT. UP.”

The look in her eye is like nothing Alex has seen before. It scares her, “Ok. Yeah…I’m sorry.”

She turns the opposite direction and ditches Maggie as fast as she can.

She doesn’t want her to see her cry.

…

Another week goes by and Maggie hasn’t said a thing to Alex. She practically hides during lunch, she moves seats in English—and on more than one occasion, she ditches it entirely to hang out behind the school with Eliza Wilke.

One night after dinner, her aunt mutes the TV, “I know you don’t like it here, Smi—Maggie—but thirteen is a big birthday. I was thinking we could celebrate this Saturday? You can invite some friends over, I’ll make you a cake, we can order some pizzas… I promise to not embarrass you.”

Maggie hasn’t softened at all around Christina. She hates her as much as she hates her parents. Part of her knows she shouldn’t. Her aunt took her in and has been nothing but nice—and now she wants to throw her a birthday party.

Except part of her brain keeps thinking if her Aunt Christina hadn’t taken her in, she would still be at home now. This whole thing would’ve blown over and her life would be normal.

Besides, she doesn’t have any friends now anyway, “No thanks.”

Christina frowns, “Nothing? It doesn’t have to be a party, it can be anything you want. We can go to the movies, or the mall…”

“I want to go _home_.”

That word still cuts like a knife, but now she knows it. She goes back to her room and slams the door so her aunt can’t see her cry.

…

Alex is standing in her room, with a tennis racket in her hand, staring at Maggie’s gift.

“Alex?”

“Go _away,_ Kara.”

As she expected, the door opens a second later, “I’ll go away in one minute—I promise—but I just wanted to tell you something.”

Why her parents ever thought she needed a little sister, will forever remain her #1 Unsolved Mystery.

“You have one. minute.”

Kara looks rather smug, considering Alex is less than sixty seconds from shoving her back into the hallway.

She puts her hands on her hips, “I know where Maggie is.”

 

Turns out, when Kara was at her friend’s house yesterday, they saw Maggie and a woman walking down the street.

Kara’s favorite movie is _Harriet the Spy_ , so it’s no surprise to Alex that her and her friend decided to follow Maggie home. She _was_ surprised, however, that Kara actually remembered the address.

 

Now it’s Saturday—Maggie’s 13th birthday—and Alex is standing at the end of an unfamiliar driveway on the other side of town, hoping she’s not about to look like a total idiot.

She made her mom drop her off, and told her she’d call her for a ride home later. She may have lied and said it was Maggie’s birthday party…but thankfully Kara had her back and didn’t tattle on her.

Alex takes a deep breath, then walks up to the front door and rings the doorbell.

The door swings open quickly, and she nearly drops the big box in her hands, “Hello?”

“Um…hi,” she mumbles. The woman doesn’t look quite old enough to be Maggie’s mom, but she looks a lot like Maggie—dark hair, dimples and all, “I—I’m Alex. Does, uh…does Maggie Sawyer live here?”

“She does,” the woman seems to soften at that, and she holds the door open wider, “You’re Alex Danvers, right?”

Alex takes a small step forward, “Yeah?”

“You probably don’t remember me… I think the last time I saw you, you were in kindergarten. Come on in. Maggie’s in her room.”

Alex walks in, and lowers the box a little. There are no balloons or decorations. No cake. No gifts at all. She wonders if she even knows it’s Maggie’s birthday.

“I’m Christina—Maggie’s aunt,” then she gestures down the little hallway, “Second door on your left.”

She nods a little and starts down the hallway. The house is small, but it’s comfy. She doesn’t see anyone else, and Alex wonders if Christina lived here alone until Maggie moved in.

When she gets to the second door on the left, she knocks and it opens slightly, “Maggie?”

She can’t really see anything so she puts the box down on the floor. But as soon as she looks up again, Maggie is glaring at her, “What are you doing here?!”

Alex puts her hands up, “I know you’re mad at me! I’m sorry. I just…” she looks down at the box, “It’s your birthday…”

“Go away,” she seethes.

But Alex isn’t leaving that quickly. Maggie can avoid her at school, but not here. She closes the door behind them, “Maggie—what did I do? Please…just tell me? I’m sorry! I can fix it.”

“Because I’m broken, right?!” she yells, “Because I’m wrong? Because I’m an abomination?”

Alex is thrown off. That’s not what she was thinking at all, “You’re not broken! And you’re _not_ an abomination! Why would you say that?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” she spits.

Alex is lost, “Maggie, I just want to help. I—I want my best friend back. I would never, ever think you’re an abomination.”

Maggie rolls her eyes and huffs.

At least she didn’t yell. She can feel the tears sting her eyes, but she tries not to cry, “I miss you.”

Maggie sighs, “It doesn’t matter.”

She shrugs one shoulder, “It matters to me…”

From the other side of the room, Maggie looks up at her again. She doesn’t look as angry, but she looks sadder than Alex has ever seen her.

In a moment of bravery, Alex takes a half a step forward, “…is this…about the dance?”

As soon as she says it, she regrets it. Maggie looks murderous.

“WE’RE NOT GOING TO THE DANCE. WE NEVER WERE. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!”

Alex wraps her arms around herself, but it’s not comforting. She feels the tears start to stream down her cheeks, and swallows hard, “Ok. Sorry. Um…happy birthday, Mags.”

She runs down the hall, and thankfully, she doesn’t see Maggie’s aunt anywhere. She runs all the way to the corner before she remembers she’s so far from home.

 

It takes six blocks for her to stop crying, and another three to find a payphone to call her mom—but at that point, she figures it’s easier just to walk home and not have to answer questions.

She lies easily when her mom asks how she got back. Kara gives her a curious look, but neither question her story.

Alex goes upstairs, locks her bedroom door, then cries herself to sleep.

…

Maggie’s jolted awake by another nightmare, and it takes a few seconds to remember her surroundings.

She rolls over and looks at her alarm clock: 1:37am.

The light from the window catches on something across the room, and she sits up slowly—her present.

It’s right in the middle of the room, exactly where Alex left it. Maggie hadn’t been able to bring herself to touch it the rest of the day.

But now she slips out of bed, sits on the rug next to it, and carefully opens up the card on top.

 

 

> _Dear Maggie,_
> 
> _I hope you have a very happy birthday! I know things are…different…right now, but I’m always here if you want to talk. I really miss you._
> 
> _Anyway, I got the idea for this present after one of our sleepovers. I know it’s kind of babyish, but when we were playing MASH that one night, we started listing all the awesome and hilarious things we would put in our mansions when we grew up…and right now I wish we were grown up and had our own houses with all those things, and the underground lazy river that connects them, because you not living next door really sucks._
> 
> _Happy birthday BFF!_
> 
> _Love, Alex_  
> 
> 
> _P.S. Kara helped me a little bit, so I told her she could have a room in the house. But you’re allowed to evict her. I won’t tell. She also added all the glitter on the roof—“wishing dust,” she said—so be careful when you open the box. It made a mess in my room, and took hours to clean up. I don’t want you to get in trouble like we did.  
>    
>  _

Maggie puts the card aside, and opens the box slowly. Glitter falls all over the floor, but she doesn’t care.

It looks like Barbie’s Dream House, but way cooler. Maggie never had a Barbie Dream House, but it looks like Alex took all the stuff from her old one and made it better. Every room is filled with all kinds of inside jokes and photos of her and Alex.

The living room has tiny inflatable furniture and every CD she could ever imagine. There’s a cutout photo of her and Alex from last Halloween, dancing around in their Spice Girl costumes.

In the kitchen is one of those Snoopy shaved ice makers, and on the oven are Christmas cookies painted black, just like the ones they made a couple years ago. Maggie’s mom refused to let them use the kitchen for three whole months after that.

The “basement” has a movie theatre—showing _The Mummy_ , of course—with a photo of Maggie and a pile of blankets that she assumes is supposed to be Alex, complete with every snack food she can think of in all the other empty seats.

She looks through the other rooms, and finds a bowling alley, a roller skating rink, and a swimming pool on the roof.

There’s even a balcony with a telescope—and that must be the room Kara made. She knows Kara’s obsessed with astronomy, and that room doesn’t look like Alex’s style at all. It’s a little messier, but it’s not silly like all of Alex’s designed rooms.

It’s just a telescope and sleeping bags, and a cutout photo of Maggie, Kara, and Alex snuggled under a pile of blankets. Maggie recognizes it from Kara’s first 4th of July with the Danvers. At the time, she was terrified of fireworks and heights, so Alex and Maggie let her squeeze in between them both while they sat up on the roof to watch the show.

Alex added some practical rooms too. There’s a bathroom with a bubble bath and a photo of them as naked toddlers inside. “Well, _that’s_ embarrassing…” she mumbles out loud.

Then she sees the bedroom. In it is a photo from the last night Alex was at her house. The night she said she wanted to go to the dance with her. The night Maggie wrote that stupid letter and ruined everything—her friendship, her family, her whole life.

She shoves the box across the floor hard. The noise it makes sounds like she might’ve broken a few things, but she doesn’t care.

She goes back to her bed, pulls the blanket over herself, and shuts her eyes tight—but it doesn’t stop the tears.

“I just want to be a grown up,” she mutters through her tears, “Thirteen is dumb. I don’t want to be thirteen. I want to be…thirty.”

She remembers the article she read in one of Alex’s magazines: _Thirty and Flirty and Thriving._

She repeats it until she falls asleep, “Thirty and flirty and thriving…thirty and flirty and thriving…”

…

The sound of her alarm wakes her up, but when Maggie reaches for it, she misses and falls to the floor with a loud thud.

Even as she starts to open her eyes, it’s pitch black. She shuffles forward in the dark and runs right into a doorknob that jabs her in the stomach, “ _Oww_ ,” she groans.

She feels for the doorknob in the dark, and swings the door open. The light from the hall makes everything glow pink, and it’s then that she realizes she has a sleeping mask over her eyes.

She pushes it up, and the unfamiliar hallway comes into focus, “Mom?”

No answer.

“Dad?”

Silence.

The last couple weeks come back in a flood of emotion, and she wraps her arms around herself—then jumps. She looks down and she has _boobs_. Not just the “boobs” her and Alex convinced themselves they were getting—but actual, grown-ass woman _boobs_.

_What is happening?_

She starts down the hall, “…Aunt Christina?”

Wherever she is, it’s big and clean and fancy—and she’s never been here before. The hallway opens up to a huge living room, and it looks like something out of a movie.

“This is a dream…it has to be a dream…”

When she turns the other way, she suddenly comes face-to-face with some strange woman and screams. In her panic, she takes a few steps backwards, trips on something, and falls over completely.

She spots an umbrella under the couch next to her, so she grabs it like a baseball bat and stands up ready to swing.

Turns out it’s _not_ a strange woman, it’s just a mirror. But if it’s a mirror, then…

“Holy crap,” she whispers.

Sure enough, the woman in the reflection says it too. Maggie makes faces in the mirror for a minute and then leans close to study what she’s now starting to think is _her_ face.

It moves like it’s her face. It’s actually a pretty decent-looking face… _and_ she has boobs.

She stands up on her tippy toes, “Couldn’t be taller in my dreams?” she grumbles.

She wanders over to a chair in the living room, and grabs a stack of mail from the coffee table, “Maggie Sawyer,” it reads. She flips to the next envelope, “Maggie Sawyer…”

Every one of them is addressed to her, “I live here?”

“Hey, hot stuff?”

Maggie jumps to her feet and instinctively swings the umbrella-bat at the direction of the deep voice.

“Whoever you are, you better leave me alone! I’m calling 911!”

…


	3. Big Time Magazine Editor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Alternative Chapter Title: Please don't hate me!! There's reasoning behind it, I promise!)
> 
> We find out who is in Maggie's apartment, and Maggie tries to figure out what the hell happened.

“Heyyy hot stuff?” the deep voice drawls again.

Maggie cringes, but inches closer to where it’s coming from, still armed with her umbrella-bat, “I don’t know who you are, but you need to leave _right now!”_

The door to the bathroom opens and a grown man with dark hair is standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

She jumps, and looks away, “Oh my god! Get out of my house!”

She actually doesn’t know if this is her house, but judging by the mail on the table, it’s most likely hers. And since her name is still Sawyer, she’s pretty sure she’s not married.

“Aw, come on…you can join me if you want…” he teases.

As he reaches for the towel, she runs down the hall to the front door. She grabs what she can only assume is her purse, keys, and shoes, then grabs a black leather jacket that’s hung up nearby, and rushes out the door.

She stumbles onto the street, and it’s madness. There’s music playing from somewhere nearby, a ton of people pushing her back and forth as they hurry along the sidewalk, cars speeding down the street, and an alarming number of horns honking—she’s definitely not anywhere near home anymore.

“Maggie! Let’s go!”

She spins around and stops to see a tall blonde woman leaning against a black town car. She has no idea who she is. She hesitantly points to herself, “Me?”

The woman doesn’t answer. Instead, she yells into what Maggie thinks is a phone against her ear, “Yeah, well, I don’t care what it takes! He needs to be at the party tonight, or you can tell him he’ll have Elle to deal with!”

Suddenly she looks right at Maggie, “Maggie! Come on! We’re gonna be late!”

“I—I can’t get in the car,” she stutters, “I don’t get in the car with strangers…”

The woman—Elle? She called herself Elle, she thinks—rolls her eyes, “We don’t have time for this. Come on, Maggie. Or Richard is going to fire us.”

“I can’t get in the car. I don’t get in the car with strangers!” she panics. She starts backing up toward her building again.

“Maggie!! The meeting starts in ten minutes.” The woman holds open the door and attempts to wave Maggie inside.

“I don’t get in the car with—!”

“Hot stuff! Come on back up!”

Maggie looks up to see the man from the bathroom leaning out the window with a slimy smirk—and still naked. The blonde woman looks between them both and raises her eyebrows with a devious grin.

She feels trapped. But given the choice between the naked man and the woman in the fancy car, she thinks her chances are better in the car.

Maggie slides across the backseat and the woman sits next to her. Without a word, the driver pulls away to take them to wherever this meeting is.

“Ok, I love what you’re wearing, but I loved it more yesterday, before it was slept-in," she smirks, "Where did you go last night? Who’s the hunk?”

“What? Gross.” Maggie shakes the thought of the naked guy out of her head, “ _No._ I don’t know who he is.”

The woman laughs, “So it was a _very_ good night, then.”

Maggie has no idea what she means, “No? I don’t—I don’t know. I don’t remember. Listen: I’m thirteen! Yesterday was—”

She snorts, “If you’re gonna start lying about your age, I’d probably go with 27.”

“But I’m not 27! I’m—” but she doesn’t finish that sentence, because the woman starts yelling into the phone again, and by the time she stops, the driver pulls up to the curb and they’ve arrived wherever they were going.

Maggie follows her out of the car, but then the woman puts a hand on her shoulder and stops her before they go in, “Ok. I need you to pull yourself together, Mags.”

“Ok…?” she agrees. Maybe it’s some kind of test. Maybe she’s dreaming. Whatever this test is, she can pass it, and she can wake up, and go back to school and to her life and…she smirks a little to herself…wait ’til Alex hears about this.

Alex. _Oh no_. She was so horrible to Alex, and—but she freezes. She looks around frantically. The same song from earlier is playing again, just as loudly, just as close as before, “Do you hear that?”

Elle looks at her like she’s nuts, “Your phone? Yes. I hear it. It’s probably Richard. We’re very late.” She reaches into Maggie’s jacket pocket and holds something out in her hand, then laughs, “Not Richard, I guess…”

The naked man’s face fills the screen and Maggie nearly drops it, “Gross!” She holds it up to her ear, but not touching her face at all, because somehow that would be too close, “You! Go put on some clothes and get out of my house! I never want to see you again!”

“But—”

She hands back the phone with a grimace, but Elle shakes her head, “Mags, it’s yours. You keep it.”

“Right…” Maggie tucks the phone back in her pocket.

“Alright. We really need to go. So repeat after me: I am Maggie Sawyer, big time magazine editor!”

Her jaw drops, “I am?”

“Magggieeee,” she whines.

“Right. I am Maggie Sawyer, big time magazine editor!”

“I’m a tough bitch.”

She snorts. Her mom would _kill_ her.

Elle claps her hands in front of her face, and Maggie jumps, “Maggie! Focus!”

She gets nervous, “Yeah. Ok. I’m a…tough…uh…bitch?” she whispers.

Elle narrows her eyes, but keeps going, “I’m going to walk into that building, and not let anyone know I’m hungover.”

“But I’m not hungover!”

She puts her hand up and cuts Maggie off with a glare.

Maggie sighs, “I’m going to walk into that building, and not let anyone know I’m hungover…”

“Because the future of _Poise_ magazine depends on me.”

Maggie’s eyes go wide and she looks up at the skyscraper beside her, “Poise?” she breathes.

The blonde woman rolls her eyes and groans. She puts a hand on Maggie’s back and shoves her through the door, “Just go…”

…

After a short elevator ride, she finds herself inside a huge, insanely busy office. People are rushing around with papers, demanding signatures and approvals, and more than one phone is ringing, and suddenly an older woman rushes up to her and hands over a coffee cup and a stack of papers.

“Ms. Sawyer, Taylor Swift’s people called and said they’re fine with the blue one.”

“Um…ok. Who?” she looks to Elle for confirmation, and gets half a shrug in response.

“Also, Ms. Grant still hasn’t gotten back to you—”

“Ugh. What a bitch,” Elle groans.

“I…um…” she has no idea what’s happening or what she’s agreed to or who Cat Grant is, either.

Then some guy comes up to her with two giant poster boards that he shoves in her face, “Which one for the party tonight? I can’t decide.”

Maggie is being continually pushed down the hall, and she’s overwhelmed. She’s trying to calm down, but she was never very good at it. Alex is good at it. Alex could calm her down. She could figure out what is happening.

She looks to the older woman with that gave her coffee, but finds her with a phone to her ear again and taking notes. She looks to Elle at her side, who whispers, “Just pick one.”

“That one!”

“Great. Perfect. Love it.”

Maggie’s not even sure which one she picked. Before she can excuse herself to go and try to find her best friend, Elle grabs her by the elbow and tugs her into a large conference room.

When she sits down, everyone is staring at her. She gives them half a smile, then slides down further in her chair.

This has to be a nightmare, she thinks. She’s had this nightmare before—well, not this _exact_ nightmare—but she’s about 90% sure she’s going to have to stand up and give a presentation in her underwear.

Then woman with the coffee sets down a dry double-toasted bagel on a small plate at her side, and gives her a nervous smile, “Can I get you anything else?”

This is her chance, “You mean like a favor?” she hopes.

The look she gets in return is pure confusion, “Uh, sure? Like…like a favor…”

Maggie writes down a name and phone number on the back of the notebook in front of her as fast as she can, “I need you to find someone. It’s really important that I—”

“Are we ready?” Richard interrupts.

The room silences, and Maggie follows suit. Once everyone’s eyes are on Richard, she crumples up the paper and throws it towards the door. It hits the woman in the back, but she picks it up before shutting the door behind her.

“Ms. Wilke, can we finally begin this meeting, please?”

Maggie’s head snaps to her left. Wilke?! Like…Eliza Wilke? Eliza Wilke who ditches 8th period gym? It can’t be…

The blonde woman from the town car starts talking and Maggie’s head is spinning. Elle is...Eliza? Are they the same person?

“Well, our numbers are way down, that’s for sure. Unfortunately, the issue was already prepped for circulation with no way to pull it after Lillian Luthor was arrested. We’ve printed an apology in this month’s issue, but it could take some time to recover. The readers aren’t happy that we’ve praised someone who was revealed to be so…questionably moral. But she’s innocent until proven guilty, right? Besides…we are, first and foremost, a pop culture magazine. We don’t report the news, and in time, I think they’ll forget all about it.”

As she’s watching her talk, Maggie realizes that this woman looks exactly like Eliza Wilke. Her hair’s a little blonder, but the face is the same—although older—and the bored tone combined with unyielding confidence is something that Maggie is very familiar with.

So if Eliza’s an adult now…maybe…maybe this isn’t a dream?

…

After the meeting, she goes back down the hallway she came through earlier. She knows there was a room with her name on, but it takes her a second to find it again.

Maggie closes the door to her office behind her, shuts her eyes, and takes a deep breath.

“Ok. This is fine. I can do this. I can…figure this out. Wake up. Or—” then something catches her eye on the wall.

She walks closer to the bookshelf and picks up a picture of her and the naked, dark-haired guy from her apartment this morning—only this time he’s clothed. It’s the two of them at some kind of fancy event, and he’s got his arm around her. She’s smiling, so apparently she’s happy? Is this her boyfriend?

“Ms. Sawyer?”

The knock on the door startles her, “Who is it?” she calls. She puts the photo back before the woman from this morning opens the door, “Just me. Arlene. Um…more messages. Your mother just called from Paris and—”

Her heart leaps, “My mom called?! I wish you told me!”

“I’m sorry…I didn’t…um…you said not to bother you with family calls?”

Maggie pauses, “I said that?”

The woman winces, “Please don’t fire me…”

“I’m won’t! I’m sorry. I…uh…I forgot I said that. If my mom calls again, will you please let me know?”

“Yes ma’am.”

If this is the future, then she has a future where her mom calls her?! She moved back home?! She can’t believe it. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off her chest.

“Oh! I also found Ms. Danvers.”

Maggie yanks her into the office, and shuts the door, “You found Alex?!”

This is amazing. This is the best. She’s an adult. She works at a fancy magazine. Her _mom_ calls her. She has her best friend back. She has boobs. She never wants to go back to being thirteen again.

“Well, the number you gave me went to her parents house, I think? I talked to Eliza? But I said that I worked for _Poise_ and I had been trying to track her down for a spotlight article, so she gave me her cell phone and address.” She proudly holds out a piece of paper.

Maggie gasps and takes it, “You lied to Doctor Danvers? Woooow.” She’s impressed. She never could.

Arlene looks caught between proud and scared, “Yes? Anyway, she’s in the Village.”

She tilts her head, “Which village?”

“The—Greenwich Village…?”

“Right. Of course. Thanks!”

…

“I wish I could, Kara, but I have a shoot that weekend. No, no, nothing like that, unfortunately. That was a one-time thing. Just some print ads…”

Alex paces around her living room on the phone with her sister, when the buzzer echoes throughout the apartment. Alex checks her watch. She’s not expecting anyone until later…but she did order lunch a few minutes ago. That was fast.

“Hey—alright. I’ll see. But probably no. I gotta go! No, I do! Someone’s at the door. Talk to you later. Yeah, you too. Bye.”

She walks over to the intercom and pushes the button, “Hello?”

When she pushes to button to listen, all she gets back is static with a few words she can’t quite piece together, but she’s pretty sure the person says “Alex.”

“Alright, I can’t understand any of that, but if your here from Blue Ginger, ring twice.”

It buzzes twice, so she let’s them up. A few seconds later, there’s a knock on her door and she opens it.

“Alex?”

With one word, her chest constricts, and it feels like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. _It can’t be…_ she thinks.

She looks her over: dark jeans, a t-shirt, black leather jacket…and watches the woman run a hand through her dark hair, as she shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. When she looks up with a small grin, _lord_ …those dimples are so familiar. She would spot them anywhere.

“Alex Danvers?”

“Maggie,” she whispers in disbelief.

Her eyes light up and she rushes at Alex and wraps her into a huge hug. Alex has to tighten her grip on the doorframe to keep from falling over, “Um…ok. Come on in…”

After she peels herself from the hug, Alex watches Maggie wander the living room with wide eyes, trying to take in the whole place.

“You took all these photos?” she breathes, “They’re incredible.”

Alex feels like she’s dreaming, “Um…yeah. Thanks?” She shuts her eyes tight, but when she opens them, Maggie is still there, “What—what are you doing here, Maggie?”

Those big brown eyes looking back at her are full of worry, “I need your help.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it again, “I—uh—I don’t know how I can possibly help you.”

Maggie’s shoulders slump, “What do you mean? You’re my best friend.”

Alex snorts out a laugh, but Maggie only looks more scared, “Sorry—I just…um…we’re not…friends, Maggie. We haven’t been in years.” She tries to say it gently, but she sees the tear roll down Maggie’s cheek.

Maggie backs up a few steps and sits on the couch, “W—What do you mean? You’re my best friend. You said so! You said we would be best friends forever—if I joined the circus, or if I was a movie star, or a zookeeper, or a scuba diver…” a sob escapes from her throat and Alex has to look away, “Alex, you’re supposed to drive the boat!”

As Maggie’s voice gets more panicked, Alex’s heart breaks, despite her confusion, “Ok. Ok. Maggie? Calm down. It’s gonna be fine. I promise. How about a glass of water? Just…breathe.”

She watches her take a few shaky breaths, and backs into the kitchen slowly, “I’ll be right back, ok? I’m just gonna get you that glass of water.”

She nods and grabs the throw pillow on the couch, hugging it tight. Alex goes into the kitchen and checks her watch again. She’s got a deadline in a few hours, and she cannot miss it. Somehow she has to get Maggie out of here. But even as she thinks it, she feels guilty. Maggie’s clearly going through something, and they _were_ best friends once…she can’t just kick her out.

Alex hands her the glass of water and watches her sip it slowly, but her eyes are still wide. Between that, and the way she’s clutching the pillow—she looks so young. So much more like the teenage best friend Alex remembers.

She sits next to her and when Maggie looks up with her big, watery eyes, Alex tries to ignore the way her heart aches, “Alex, I know I was mean to you. After I got kicked out…and I—” she winces, “I think I broke the dream house—but only just a little! I can totally fix it! And…and this is gonna sound crazy, I know, but…but what happened after that?”

“After that?” Alex thinks back. She remembers giving her the dream house—but not breaking it—and she _certainly_ remembers Maggie getting kicked out, but that was 17 years ago. “I don’t know, Maggie” she shrugs, “We grew apart.”

_“How?”_

Alex sighs. She knows exactly how. But even after 17 years, she doesn’t have the heart to say it out loud to Maggie’s face. She buried those feelings a long time ago, “Let me walk you home, ok? We can talk on the way.”

…


	4. Thriller Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A walk home. A fancy work party. Hey look! Kara's here too. ;)
> 
> (I'm sorry it took so long, friends. Life craziness, work craziness, dog craziness, and a serious case of writer's block. Happy reading!)

Maggie doesn’t know where she is or how to get home from here, so she lets Alex lead the way as they wind their way through the city.

“Listen Maggie, we just…we grew apart.”

Alex keeps saying that, but it’s not enough, “There has to be more.”

She sighs, “I don’t know. We grew up. After your birthday, I tried a few times…but you didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

“I dove into my studies, you hung out with Eliza Wilke, and we just…ran in different circles through high school. We went to different colleges…and we didn’t see each other anymore.”

She wrinkles her nose, “Eliza Wilke?”

Alex shrugs.

College? That’s crazy. She has a hard enough time picturing herself in high school. She wonders what college was like, “Oh! Where did I go to college?”

Alex raises an eyebrow in confusion, “NYU…?”

That seems like a good school. She’s pretty sure she’s heard people say it in a way that sounds impressive, at least. She doesn’t know. She’s years away from looking at colleges, “And you?”

“Uh…” she blushes slightly, and rubs the back of her neck, “Stanford.”

Well she knows _that_ is a great school, “Wooow. You’re so smart!”

She snorts, “Yeah, well…at least you graduated.”

“What do you mean?”

Alex shoves her hands in her pockets, “I dropped out.”

Maggie stops suddenly, _“What?!”_

But Alex only laughs, “Don’t worry. It worked out.”

“I guess so…” she mutters. Still. She can’t fathom a universe where Alex Danvers dropped out of school.

“We’re here.”

She looks up, and sure enough, it’s the building she stumbled out of this morning, “Oh. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Alex backs up a few steps and glances at the building, “Good luck, Maggie.”

“You don’t wanna come up?”

“I should go.”

She wishes Alex would stay, but it’s all different now. She thought it would be like before, but Alex is a grown up here, and everything’s changed.

Maggie walks to the door, but she still can’t make sense of a world where she hasn’t seen Alex since her 13th birthday. She turns around quickly, “Hey, Alex!”

To her pleasant surprise, Alex also turns around, “Yeah?”

“What about Christmas? Didn’t I go home for Christmas?”

Alex pauses and gets a look on her face that Maggie can’t read, but then it’s gone with a little smirk, “Doesn’t your crowd do St. Barts for Christmas?”

Maggie tilts her chin and stares blankly at her, “Who’s Saint Bart?”

…

Despite her best efforts, Alex finds herself inside Maggie’s—apparently very large, and very expensive—apartment.

A pettier person would be jealous—and maybe she was, too, at first—but the deeper into the apartment she goes, the shallower Maggie’s life seems.

It’s huge, and the furniture is gorgeous, but it looks uncomfortable and unused. There’s no notes, or cards, or photos on her fridge. No blankets haphazardly folded on the back of the couch. No dishes in the sink, no miscellaneous junk accumulating on the counter, or on a shelf.

Except for the small pile of mail on the coffee table that clearly says “Maggie Sawyer,” this could be anyone’s apartment.

“Found it!”

Her chipper exclamation makes Alex turn, and she watches the grown woman practically skip to the counter like a little kid. The flash of her old best friend makes her smile a little.

Maggie sits up at the kitchen counter and starts flipping through their high school yearbook, but Alex doesn’t join her. She hangs back and pretends to be interested in the books on the shelf.

“I was Prom Queen?!”

“…yup,” Alex fixes her gaze anywhere but those black and white pages.

“I was voted Best Smile!”

“Yup,” she repeats. Less words is better. She has no interest in reliving the worst years of her life.

“And…Most Changed? Well no kidding…” she laughs, “this doesn’t even look like me.”

Alex actually voted for that one. One thing her and the majority of the student body agreed on was that Maggie had changed the most—but she’s pretty sure her vote wasn’t in the same spirit as the rest of the class.

For four years, every one of those changes Maggie went through felt like a knife in her back—or maybe her heart.

“Yeah, Maggie, you got it all. Congratulations…” she mumbles.

Before her long-buried jealousy and teenage angst can take over, the phone rings and snaps Alex out of the temptation of a downward spiral.

“Hello? A—a _limo_?” Maggie’s wide eyes catch Alex’s across the room, and all she can do is give a meager thumbs up.

This was a mistake. She’s not sure what she expected. For a moment, maybe she thought she was different now, or maybe she was just caught off-guard…either way, she should go. She starts to head toward the door.

“Yes, I will be prepared to take my ride at that time. Um…could you tell me where I’m going?”

One hand on the door, she’s almost escaped this insane day that is somewhere between a dream and a nightmare—but Maggie runs up a second later with the biggest grin, twirling on the spot, “I’m going to a party in a limo!!”

That’s Alex’s cue to leave, “Fun. See? Back to normal now,” she tries to say it less bitter than she feels, “I should go. See ya around, Maggie.”

The confusion flashes across her face, “You don’t want to go to the party?”

Like she would even know what to do in a limo, “Uh…no thanks. I’ve got a lot work to do.” It’s not a lie, but it feels like one.

“Shoot. I forgot you have a job…”

Judging by the look of Maggie’s life now, she could probably take off work for five years and not worry about money. Alex had barely made it out of the paycheck-to-paycheck phase of her life. She fights the urge to roll her eyes, “Yeah…well…pays the bills.”

She manages to make it into the hallway—but then, “Alex? What if this isn’t just a dream? What if what I wished for actually happened?”

Her bitterness slips out before she can stop herself, “Then you got everything you ever wanted. You might as well enjoy it.” It’s petty, but it’s true. Maggie wanted this life. She traded friendship for popularity at thirteen, and it seems like she never looked back.

“Yeah…I guess so. Thanks for your help, Alex. I would’ve been lost without you.”

 _You would’ve been fine,_ she thinks, but does not say. Even after everything, she won’t sink that low. She gives her a half-hearted wave, and walks down the hall.

She pushes the elevator button rapidly, like it’ll make it show up faster.

“Alex!”

Her head turns instantly, and she curses herself under her breath for obeying on command, “Yeah?”

Maggie leans against the door, grinning with both dimples, “Arrivederci.”

Her chest constricts. She swallows hard, “I’ll see you around.”

“ _Alex_ …” Maggie pouts.

Her heart feels like it’s trying to split in two: one half beating for her life now, and the other half suddenly pumping life into roots buried deep in her chest, tangled around memories and feelings she thought were dead and gone, and words she hasn’t heard in years. 

She fakes a smile, “…au revoir.”

Maggie beams, and Alex has to look away.

Inside the elevator, she leans back against the wall and shuts her eyes. Before she can dwell on what she’s feeling, her phone pings in her hand, and she opens the text message:

_KARA: Where’d you go?? I need the pics for Cat ASAP! Are they here??_

_Shit_. Her deadline.

_ALEX: Be there in five._

…

When Alex throws open the door to her apartment, Kara’s pacing nervously in front of the couch.

“Alex!”

“I know, I know!” She glances at the clock on the wall, “But technically, my deadline is in an hour, so you can just tell Ms. Grant she can wait.”

Kara stops dead in her tracks and stares at her.

Alex sighs, “Right. You probably shouldn’t tell her that…”

“Probably not.”

She starts shuffling the papers around on her desk, “I know it’s here somewhere…”

Kara flops down on the couch and furrows her brow, “You lost your work? Are you sick or something?”

She finally spots the little thumb drive under a stack of proofs and holds it victoriously in the air, “Got it! Wait—what? No, I’m fine.”

_Just saw my childhood best friend for the first time in over a decade, helped her through some kind of panic attack, relieved the worst four years of my life, and maybe unearthed some unresolved feelings…but other than that…just your regular Thursday…_

“Alex?”

She snaps out of her train of thought and hands the drive over to Kara, “I’m fine.”

“Uh _huh_ …”

Her tone takes the place of all the words she’s not saying. Alex waves off the silent questions, “Go. Get these to Cat. Tell her to call me if there are any problems.”

“We’ll talk later?”

“Sure.”

Kara hugs her tight, and it settles nerves Alex didn’t realize were still buzzing since her encounter with Maggie this morning. She takes a deep breath.

“Sister night tonight?”

Alex pulls back and can’t hide the giddiness on her face, “Can’t tonight. Maybe next week?”

“Not this weekend?” Kara starts to frown, then she shakes her head, “Nope, never mind. Dumb question,” she answers herself a second later, with a grin, “Next week it is.”

Alex walks her to the door and waves goodbye. As she shuts the door, her phone rings. She feels the butterflies in her stomach, “Hey! I was just thinking about you—wait, what? Ughh, _noooo_ …” she whines.

…

It took hours for Maggie to decide what to wear to this party. It took nearly half an hour alone to skim through all the clothes, shoes and bags in her enormous walk-in closet.

At one point, she called her assistant for advice, but then Arlene awkwardly mumbled something about not being invited, so Maggie told her to get ready too, and made the driver pick her up on the way.

She settled on a colorful dress that was just twirly enough to make dancing fun—although it took a lot longer to figure out which shoes and purse to match with it.

Now she and Arlene are standing near the elaborate bar of a swanky party, and she’s pretty proud of the fact that she looks to have dressed appropriately for the occasion.

A few people wave at Arlene from across the room, and Maggie insists that she goes to them, “You’re not here as my assistant. You’re here to have fun!”

It takes multiple assurances, but she finally heads off to the group in the corner.

A moment later, an arm loops through Maggie’s and she turns wide-eyed toward the perpetrator, but realization settles in, and she greets her with a hug, “Eliza!”

The tall blonde in the sleek black dress cringes, “Ugh. Please no. No one’s called me that since my nose job.”

Maggie leans in closer to her face, “You had a _nose job_?”

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah, and yours is better.”

Maggie brings a hand to her face, but before she can ask, they’re interrupted.

“Elle! Maggie!”

Richard approaches them with a waitress trailing closely behind. He pecks them each on the cheek, and snags them all a glass of champagne from the looming waitress, “My lovely Co-Editors-in-Chief…cheers!” he toasts.

Maggie clinks her glass against theirs, and follows their lead in drinking the bubbly beverage. She tries hard not to make a face when the taste of alcohol hits her tongue.

Richard takes a second glass and downs that in one gulp, “Let’s all pray this party is a hit, or we’ll be looking for new jobs in the morning.”

Elle looks confidently around the room, and puts a hand on his arm, “It’s going to be great, Richard.”

He nods, “It better be…it better be… But why should I worry?! I’ve got the best in the business with you two, and I’m sure it’ll be a hit!”

Maggie mimics their confidence, “We’re gonna party like it’s 1999!”

Richard and Eliza exchange a look, then he laughs nervously, muttering something incoherent, and leaving to greet another guest.

She looks back at Eliza, “What?”

Eliza just shakes her head and turns to the bartender, “I’m gonna need a stronger drink.”

He eyes Eliza up and down with a smarmy grin that makes Maggie want to puke—although maybe it was the alcohol, “What can I get you?”

“Vodka,” she deadpans.

He winks, then looks to Maggie, “And you?”

She opens her mouth to say “water,” then remembers she’s thirty now. Or at least, everyone thinks she is, “Can I have a piña colada? _Not_ virgin. Wanna see my ID? I totally have it.”

He snorts and raises an eyebrow, “That’s alright. Piña colada, coming right up.”

Maggie grins. She could get used to being thirty.

…

She’s not sure why she’s here, but here she is.

She should go in.

No. She should go home.

She should—

“Name?”

She wasn’t paying attention to when it became her turn, but there’s now a very large man in a suit staring down at her, “Oh. Danvers. Alex Danvers.”

He skims his clipboard, flips to the next page, then flips back to the first page.

She should go home.

“You know what? I’m probably not on there, just forget—”

“Found ya.” He marks his list, unclips the velvet rope, and Alex hesitates.

“Right. Thanks.”

Her boots click along the marble floor, nearly in time with the distant pulsing of the music coming from the grand double doors ahead.

She’s barely inside, and she once again thinks she really should leave. Her jeans, well-worn t-shirt, and blazer might be fine for every function she’s been to in the past, but she should’ve guessed that freelance photographers and magazines operated under slightly different dress codes.

High fashion is a little outside of her norm.

“Alex!”

She weaves through a cluster of people and looks up to see Maggie standing in the middle of the abandoned dance floor, alone. She waves frantically at her, and Alex freezes.

“Alex! Come on! It’s _Bye Bye Bye_!”

Only then does Alex tune out of her own thoughts and into the music. Sure enough, the early-2000’s pop beat is playing loudly.

Her jaw drops, and she’s very sure she would like to to crawl in a hole and die.

A spotlight shines down on her, and she squints under the brightness. Maggie is still in the middle of the dance floor, uninhibited, and dancing away like there’s not three hundred people staring at her.

Alex is not drunk enough for this.

Hundreds of eyes flit between her and Maggie, but no one moves.

She doesn’t blame them. This is insane.

Suddenly Maggie runs across the room, grabs her hands, and pulls her into the center of the dance floor.

Alex wishes lightning would strike her dead where she stands. Or maybe the bass will shake the chandelier like it does in the movies, and it’ll fall from the ceiling and crush her to death—rough way to go, but it might be better than this.

Maggie hip-checks her on the beat, “Come on, Al!”

Her face feels like it’s on fire, and she puts her hands up in protest, “I—I don’t remember it!”

Maggie laughs and dances around her, “You _have_ to! You taught it to me!”

She won’t. She won’t do it. Over her dead body.

She stands stock-still in the middle of the room, but Maggie doesn’t quit.

After a few seconds of fighting it, she taps her heel to the beat. Nothing more.

 _It takes more effort to stand still anyway_ , she reasons with herself.

Maggie keeps dancing, looking so happy, so free—and Alex has to shut her eyes tight for a few seconds. All she can see is the thirteen-year-old best friend, in last Halloween’s Sporty Spice costume, dancing around in her pink bedroom.

Something touches the top of her head, and she pops opens her eyes to see Maggie settling a sequined top hat on her head. Where the _hell_ she found one in here, Alex hasn’t a clue.

She shakes her head slowly, and Maggie laughs with her whole body, and Alex can’t help it—she laughs too. Then she dances.

Before she knows it, a few more people join in at the chorus, and slowly, the crowd builds.

Alex loses herself in the song, in the moment, in the dance moves that she messes up more than a few times. At one point she trips on the feet of the person next to her and nearly falls over, but Maggie grabs her hand at the last second.

Without a thought, she spins Maggie out and back in, and she lands with her back against Alex’s chest. She can smell a trace of the perfume on her neck. While she relaxes into the warmth pressed close to her body, her heart races.

Maggie suddenly turns around in her arms—still standing so close—and Alex’s hands holding Maggie’s drop between their bodies. Maggie’s eyes search Alex’s face, and she…just waits. Fully captivated.

When Maggie’s hand reaches up for Alex’s cheek, it shatters the illusion.

Alex flinches, and she can see the hurt in Maggie’s eyes, but she can’t dwell on it.

“I—I have to go. I should go.”

She shoves her way through the mass of people on the dance floor, ignoring her name echoing down the hallway, until she’s safely outside on the sidewalk.

She inhales a ragged breath and wraps her arms tight around her middle.

She almost hails a cab, but decides to walk home instead.

A block away, she grabs her phone and punches a few buttons, “Hey…is it too late for sister night?”

…


	5. I'm Not Thirteen Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delays! I'm trying, friends. I promise I'll finish it, I just can't promise when. xo

Kara shuts the fridge and slides over the pint of ice cream to her big sister, who’s sitting at the kitchen counter in her little studio apartment, head in her hands, blushing furiously.

“I’m sorry, wait— _you_ , Alex Danvers, danced to _Bye, Bye, Bye…_ in a crowd full of industry execs…and _I wasn’t there to witness it???_ ” she cackles.

Alex groans, “Ugh. I _know_. I don’t know what came over me! I…it’s like…aliens invaded my brain and took control of my body!” then her head snaps up. She raises an eyebrow and she tries not to grin, “Maybe it was the Kryptonians!”

Kara snatches the ice cream that she just gifted her sister, “Shut _up_! Everyone had imaginary friends as a kid! You’re the weird one who didn’t…” she pushes back lamely.

Alex swipes the pint back and continues talking through a giant bite of cookie dough, “No. I had _real_ friends. And sure, some kids have imaginary friends, but I never met anyone else who had an imaginary _planet_ ,” she laughs.

While she’s busy cracking herself up, Kara seizes the opportunity to take back the ice cream, popping on the lid, and shoving it back in the freezer as quick as she can.

Before Alex realizes what happened, she’s leaning against the door, guarding it with her arms crossed.

“Heyyy!”

“Hey yourself. You can have it back when you decide to be nice.”

Alex pouts, “Please Kara?”

“Nope. You haven’t earned it.”

Her sister’s shoulders slump and she lays face down on the counter, arms stretched across, reaching over to near where Kara is poised, “Pleeeeeeasssseee,” she begs.

She grins, “Wow, Alex. Really busting out the dramatics, aren’t we?”

Kara watches as Alex’s fingertips drum the counter, while she works out her next tactic. A few moments of silence go by, but she waits.

“What if…I told you…Maggie Sawyer invited me…?” she mumbles quietly into the countertop.

Kara nearly falls over, “ _What_.”

She watches as Alex peers up ever-so-slightly, then she sits up, with one hand running through her short, reddish-brown hair, “…maybe I left that part out.”

Kara takes two pints of ice cream out of the freezer, picks up her spoon from the counter, and nudges her sister toward the couch, “Ok. You earned it. Spill.”

She curls up on the far end of the couch, and Kara does the same on the opposite side.

“She just showed up out of the blue. I haven’t seen her in…15 years? Something like that… And then this morning, there she was.”

“That’s where you were when I came over?”

Alex scrunches up her face, “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

That makes sense. She’s not sure how she would’ve taken it. She’s still not quite sure how’s she’s taking it now, but she lets Alex talk.

“It was…bizarre. She said she was thirteen—or, no. That the last thing she remembered was her thirteenth birthday.”

Kara inhales sharply. That was a rough year—for both of them, she assumes—and bringing it up now, out of the blue, probably still hurt Alex.

“Yeah,” Alex breathes, “And at first, I thought it was crazy—of course. But everything she was saying, all her mannerisms…Kara it’s like she was that kid again. She looked so lost, spouting nonsense about that silly dream house and how we were supposed to be best friends forever… And unless she started taking up a serious interest in theatre, I—I don’t think it was an act.”

“The dream house?” She thinks back to them as kids, when she was trying desperately to be included in her big sister’s life. Alex let her help a little on Maggie’s birthday present and she remembers feeling like she won the lottery. She grins at her youthful-self’s overeagerness, “So what did you do?”

“Took her home,” she shrugs, “I walked her back to her apartment, and…then I tried to leave, but…” she blushes slightly.

“You went in,” Kara finishes gently.

“I went in. And nothing happened! Nothing like…that.”

Kara’s thoughts weren’t going there, but she finds it interesting that Alex’s did. She says nothing.

“She made me show her our high school yearbook, and then…it was too much. I had to leave.”

She blocked out a lot of high school from her memory, but there are things that stuck. The big moments, especially. She can’t imagine any of that was fun for her sister, “Are you ok?”

Alex looks up at her, biting at the inside of her cheek, “I mean…she was looking at me like I’m her best friend—and that’s what she called me, her _best friend_. But I…” she exhales to give herself a chance to steady her voice, to blink back tears, “I’m not that person anymore.”

Kara snorts, “No kidding.”

“It’s not—that came out wrong. Not to be mean, it’s just…I see her, and…”

She waits to see if Alex will finish that sentence, but she suspects she won’t. After a moment, she meets her eyes and softens her voice, “She was your first heartbreak.”

Alex’s jaw drops, “What do you—I don’t—I—”

Kara laughs lightly, “Come on Alex, you _loved_ Maggie. You were in love with her, as much as you could be at thirteen, at least. That had to hurt…even now.”

Alex stares in disbelief, “You knew??”

She winces slightly, and Alex flushes and buries her head in her hands, “Oh my god…” she grumbles.

“I didn’t know then—maybe Eliza and Jeremiah suspected? I don’t know. But later it was more obvious. For a long time, I thought you were upset at losing your best friend…but it was different. She was…special.”

“She was special,” Alex agrees.

Kara raises a questioning eyebrow, “And now…?”

Alex shakes her head immediately, “No. Not to me, at least. I don’t even know her.”

She sits with that information for a few moments, saying nothing.

“So she said she was thirteen?”

Alex stares up at the ceiling, trying to remember the afternoon, “It was the strangest thing. I…I don’t know. I almost believed it—or I wanted to believe it? Either way… But then she got a call about a party in a limo, and it was more or less as shallow as I imagined her life had become.”

“I’m sorry…”

She shrugs, “It’s fine. It’s whatever. It was just…so strange.”

Kara picks at the chunks of cookie dough, working over something in her mind, “But you…you went to the party to see her…”

“…I did,” Alex sighs.

“And I’m not judging!” she adds quickly, “I just…” she tilts her chin, “Why did you go?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I had other plans—that’s why I couldn’t do sister night—but then that fell apart…” she stares into her ice cream, “Curiosity?”

“Are you still…curious?” Kara is. She has so many questions, she thinks she might explode.

“No,” Alex shakes her head. “Not at all.”

Kara drops her head onto her shoulder, and doesn’t say much. She lets the TV fill the silence between them.

…

The alarm clock is loud, her head is pounding, and her throat is dry.

She struggles to open her eyes and slams her hand down to silence the alarm. She panics for a second, before she remembers where she is.

She looks down at herself, and then slowly around the large, fancy room with a sigh, “Still thirty…”

The knock at her apartment door makes her jump, and the yelling that follows makes her head pound harder, “Maggie!”

“Yeah, yeah…I’m coming!”

She recognizes that voice today. She shuffles across the room and opens the door with a groan, “What.”

A much too awake blonde grins back, “Oh boy. Still think you can pretend you’re thirteen there, pal?”

Maggie glares at Eliza—Elle? Nope, that’s still weird. She’ll avoid it altogether, “Everything hurts.”

She laughs, “Welcome to thirty.” She hands over a bag and Maggie peers inside to find Gatorade, aspirin, and a banana, “Come on, Champ. I had Arlene cancel your morning, but we have to be back in an hour.”

“We do?” she mumbles through a mouthful of banana.

Eliza drops her chin and stares, “Please tell me you didn’t forget.”

Maggie wonders how long she can fake it til she makes it, “No! Of course not. I just…right. We have to get back…for…?”

“For the advertising meetings! The articles and cover story are great, but if we don’t sell the ad space for the next quarter, we’re going to be looking for new jobs.”

Maggie nods along, but the information means nothing to her. She shuffles back to the bedroom and flops face-first onto the bed.

She’s never going to make this work.

…

Maggie barely manages to make it through the meetings, careful to take a sip of water every time a question she doesn’t know the answer to comes her way, so Eliza has a chance to answer it first.

Surprisingly, it works.

She takes copious notes, then stops by the library on her way home.

That night, she reads “Magazine Editing for Dummies,” and scours the internet to catch up on her pop culture references.

Saturday morning, she calls Arlene into the office. She answers before the first ring is even over, and doesn’t complain once that Maggie made her work on the weekend. Part of her wonders how often this happens.

With the threat of losing both of their jobs (and the promise of a substantial raise), Arlene walks Maggie through her day-to-day tasks.

After a week, she starts to get the hang of things. She doesn’t always understand, but she’s making progress.

Odd bits of memory start to come back to her—not actual memories, more like muscle memory.

Someone asked her to email a cost report to the finance department, and she clicked through about seven screens before actually thinking about what she was doing—which, of course, then made her come to a complete stop, and took Arlene another twenty minutes to explain how to complete the process.

After two weeks, she thinks she’s stuck being thirty for good.

She’s not sure she wants to go back anyway.

…

“Here’s to thirty,” she raises her wine glass to Eliza’s, “I’ve decided it’s going to be totally awesome.”

Eliza scoffs, “Forget thirty,” she sits up a little straighter, “Here’s to being the hottest magazine editor in the _world_.”

“Second hottest?” Maggie teases.

She considers the offer, “Tied for first?”

Maggie laughs, “Deal.”

They toast and sip on their drinks.

Eliza dragged Maggie out after a conference with their bosses over the Lillian Luthor situation, which she had somehow deftly woven into an elaborate story about the justice system, and media influence, and multiple mentions of “innocent until proven guilty.”

When it was all said and done, Maggie could no longer understand why their jobs were ever in trouble in the first place. They were both forgiven for singing Lillian’s praises on a cover story mere moments after she’d been arrested for a range of criminal activity.

Now they were out to celebrate.

The drinks are delicious, but the bar is crowded. Guys keep leaning over her shoulder to place their orders, pressing close to her to ask her what she’s drinking and buy them the next round.

Eliza flirts with every one of them, and Maggie tries, but she’s not good at it and it makes her uncomfortable. She’s been inching closer to Eliza for the past hour, but now she’s run out of room.

The guy flirting with Eliza for the last ten minutes—Mark? Matt?—is boring her to death, so she’s ignoring them both and staring over their shoulder, out the window to the street, people watching.

When she spots a familiar face stopping right in front of the bar, she nearly runs out the door, only half-aware of Eliza’s confusion and attempt to follow in her wake.

She slows down at the door, pretending to act casual, “Alex? Hi!”

Alex looks surprised, “Oh…uh, hi.”

Maggie wants to hug her, but Alex steps back ever-so-slightly. She pretends to adjust her shirt a little before awkwardly dropping her arms back at her sides.

She hears the footsteps behind her, “Danvers, is that you?”

Alex’s eyes flash and her jaw clenches, “Eliza.”

Maggie feels like she’s missing something, “Um, Eliz—Elle—you remember Alex, right?”

“Sure,” Eliza plasters on a fake smile, “Hardly recognized you without the microscope and safety goggles. It’s been a while.”

There’s nothing friendly about Alex’s demeanor, “Yeah…a while.”

The moment is tense and uncomfortable, and Maggie’s caught right in the middle of it. Then a fourth voice cuts through.

“Alex, you left your—oh. Hi…”

The familiarity makes her heart leap, and her first thought is Kara—but even though the voice is a little similar, Maggie quickly realizes nothing else is.

She sizes up the woman with light brown hair, braided loosely down her back, hazel eyes, and a simple dress that somehow still looks stunning. When Alex’s arm slips easily around her waist, Maggie feels anger lick white hot through her insides.

Alex though, she notices, looks much more relaxed—and maybe just a little defiant, “Maggie, this is my fiancée, Vicki.”

The missing piece finally clicks into place.

_This_ is it. This is why they aren’t friends.

She’s been so panicked and confused about being thirty, she’d nearly forgotten the reason for their falling out altogether: Maggie had feelings for Alex.

Feelings she was only just barely beginning to understand—but still got her kicked out and shunned from her family, and made her too scared and too angry to ever want to think about again.

She pushed her away because of it. For good, according to Alex.

And here she was. With her fiancée. Her fiancée who is a woman.

She feels like she can’t breathe, “Your…oh. Of course. Uh…hi, Vicki. Maggie Sawyer.”

They shake hands, and the woman smiles kindly, “Right! Alex’s told me all about your visit the other day. How are you doing? Are you feeling better?”

She was until a minute ago. Now she thinks she might pass out, “Fine. I’m…fine…Oh! And Eliza—this is Eliz—Elle?—Wilke. We all went to high school together.”

Maggie sees the smile fade on Vicki’s face, “Nice to meet you, Eliza,” she says coldly.

“It’s Elle.”

Vicki doesn’t correct her mistake. She nods a little and takes the smallest step forward, like she’s putting herself between Eliza and Alex.

Before Maggie can think about what it means, a much deeper voice calls out, “Maggie!”

All four women turn around at the sound of her name, and watch as a tall, fit guy jogs lightly across the street to join them.

When he gets close enough, Maggie recognizes him as the man who was in her apartment on the first morning. She hasn’t seen or heard from him since, but he doesn’t seem to be put off.

“Hi, babe,” he kisses her cheek, and she tries not to cringe, “Hey, everyone.”

Maggie blinks at his sudden appearance, unsure of what to do in this particular moment, “Um. Right. Hey. This is…” she blanks. She doesn’t know his name. She doesn’t even know their relationship status. Close enough for him to call her “babe,” apparently. Gross.

Vicki’s eyes go a little wide, and she exchanges a look with Alex, “Nate Hawkins. We know—well, _I_ know. My fiancée is not exactly into sports, but I’m working on it…” she nudges Alex affectionately, and Maggie wants to throw up.

Alex blushes, “I know who you are,” she defends lamely, “Baseball, right?”

“MVP of the past World Series, but yeah— _baseball_ …” Eliza adds smugly.

Nate puffs up at the mention of his accolades, but Maggie, Alex, and Vicki all stare at Eliza for her tone.

“Well, we should get going,” Vicki starts. She laces Alex’s fingers into her own, and narrows her eyes at Eliza, before softening her gaze on Maggie, “It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” is all she can manage, frozen to her place on the sidewalk as they walk away.

Then she feels a strong arm wrap around her shoulders, “We should get going too.”

Eliza takes a step back toward the bar, “You kids have fun now,” she winks.

Maggie shrugs out of his grasp and closer to Eliza, “Should I go with him? Is it…is it safe?”

She looks confused, “Well, he’s your boyfriend, so…” she checks her watch, “Besides, it’s still early…maybe I can catch Max. Go have fun.”

“Fun…right…” she nods, “Like games and stuff?”

Eliza arches an eyebrow, “Sure. Games.”

…

Maggie follows Nate back to his apartment, and they mostly talk baseball. It weirdly feels normal. She can talk ERAs and RBIs, and not be constantly reminded that she’s missed fifteen years of her life. Baseball, it seems, has stayed pretty much the same.

Once inside the door, everything changes instantly.

She’s suddenly pressed against the wall, his breath hot on her neck, and his hands slipping under her shirt and all over her.

She shoves him away hard, and he staggers backwards, “What the hell?”

“What are you doing?!”

“I thought…I mean…this is what we do. Less talk, right? That’s what you wanted.”

“I—” she blinks, and something deep in her gut twists, “I don’t…I don’t know.” She wanted _this_?

He takes a small step forward, taking her hand much more gently, lacing his fingers through hers. But his hands are wrong. They don’t fit in hers at all. She pulls hers away and runs it through her hair.

“I know we haven’t done _it_ yet,” he raises his eyebrows at the word “it” and some of the tension eases from Maggie’s body at that admittance, “But I thought maybe…it’s like our fifth date…”

This was a date? They didn’t even do anything. They ran into each other on the street. What is dating now??

She shakes her head, “I can’t. I have to go.”

He sighs, “Really? Come on…” he whines, “You can stay for a little while…”

But she already has the door open, “No. I can’t. Big meeting tomorrow. I—I’m sure you understand.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday!” he calls, confused.

She ignores him. She focuses on getting out of the building as fast as she possibly can.

…

Monday morning’s meeting is supposed to revolve around pitching next month’s cover story. Maggie had written down a few ideas, but no one gets a chance to share them, because Eliza insists she has it covered.

“Ms. Wilke, I can’t promise you the cover story if you won’t tell me what it is,” Richard chastises, “Especially after what happened last time…”

“This isn’t like that! I swear. I’ve got an ‘in’ with a certain mogul, who has promised me an exclusive story about his latest scientific inventions and a private tour of his top secret facility.”

Those words sound vaguely familiar to Maggie. She turns to Eliza, “You mean M—” but a stiletto kicks her shin a second later and the searing pain stifles anything she was planning on saying.

When the meeting is over, she’s dragged out by her arm, and finds herself shoved into the copy room, “What are you doing?!” Eliza hisses.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going to blow my chances of landing this cover story!”

Maggie is lost, “What’s the big deal? They’re going to find out soon enough.”

“Not _that_ soon! I haven’t gotten the story yet, and I don’t need one of them blabbing or trying to scoop me!” She shoots a pointed glare at Maggie, “What is _up_ with you lately? You used to get it. Now I swear it’s like you’re hell-bent on sabotaging the whole magazine,” she pushes her way out the door with a huff, and Maggie’s left standing there, deflated and confused on the whole exchange.

She takes a minute to calm herself down, then she heads back to her office.

“Ms. Sawyer—Maggie, sorry,” Arlene stutters, “Here are your messages.” Maggie takes the small pile of papers without looking at them, and Arlene continues to follow her into her office, “Can I get you anything else?”

She looks at the clock, but it’s too early for lunch, “No thanks.”

Her assistant swaps her professional demeanor for a more personal one, “Are you ok?”

Maggie kind of wants to cry, but she won’t. She’s an adult now. She’s a badass. She’ll be fine, “I’m fine.”

The phone rings and Arlene ducks out to grab it. A second later, it rings on her own desk, “Yes?”

“Uh…Brett is here to see you. Should I send him in?”

She’s confused, “Brett?”

“Tracey from the Art Department’s husband.”

She has no idea who Tracey or Brett are, but whatever, “Sure. Send him in.”

She walks around to the front of her desk, when the door opens and closes, and a bearded guy in an expensive suit appears. She raises an eyebrow, “Can I help you?”

“I sure hope so,” he drawls.

Suddenly he’s leaning over, pushing her into her desk and kissing her, and she pulls away quickly, “What are you doing?!”

“Just stopped in for my weekly visit,” he grins.

He leans in to kiss her neck, and she slaps his cheek. He looks genuinely stunned. She takes advantage of that and slides out from underneath him, nearly running out of her office.

She finds her assistant staring wide-eyed at her, “Cancel my meetings for the rest of the day. I—uh—I don’t feel well.”

 

At home, her mind spins. She can’t stop thinking about the last few days.

She doesn’t know who to call, who could help, who might offer even the smallest bit of oxygen when she feels like she’s drowning. Every time Maggie reaches for her phone, she stops.

It’s past dark by the time she talks herself into moving from the couch.

…

She really needs to get her intercom fixed.

That’s her first thought.

Her second is the one she says aloud, “You’re not Cajun…”

Maggie Sawyer is standing outside her apartment door for the second time this month, and Alex feels just as thrown as she did when she found her here the first time.

She’s wearing an zip-up sweatshirt, jeans, and Converse, looking much less put together than Alex has seen her in a long time…and it looks like she might’ve been crying, “Do you wanna go for a walk?” she asks quietly.

It’s 10:30pm, but Alex isn’t exactly busy. She should say no, she knows she should. But it feels like something’s wrong, “Sure.”

They walk in silence for a couple blocks, and she waits for Maggie to speak first, because she certainly doesn’t know how to fill the silence. She keeps her hands in her pockets, the left one nervously twirling a quarter she must’ve left in there and just now rediscovered.

Maggie hasn’t looked her way once, still staring down at the sidewalk when she finally talks, “I can’t believe you’re getting married. Congratulations, by the way. I meant to say that the other night…”

“Thanks,” she’s not sure what else to say. Seems like a weird thing to talk about now.

“So you’re…you and her…you’re like…um…”

Alex laughs a little at Maggie fumbling over her words. She’s encountered this more than once, but this time reminds her more of the day she came out to her sister. Watching her trip over sentences to make sure her words came out in a way that wouldn’t offend, “Gay. Yes.” she smirks.

“Right. That…” Maggie nods.

She wonders if she’ll be able to say it out loud. She’d bet the quarter in her pocket that she won’t.

Maggie looks up at her suddenly, “Are you soulmates?” she blurts.

The confusion must be evident on her face, because Maggie backtracks, “That’s dumb, right? Sorry…”

“It’s fine. Uh…soulmates? I don’t know if I believe in that…” she thinks about Vicki though, and she can feel the warmth through her whole body, “But I love her, and it’s good—really good.”

“That’s…that’s good,” Maggie agrees.

Alex can see her brian processing, and wonders how many follow-up questions she’s about to ask. But Maggie surprises her and switches topics entirely.

“What happened between us? Really?”

Alex swallows hard and looks up to find Maggie’s brown eyes searching her face. The one question she wish she’d stop asking—but apparently adult Maggie is just as persistent and stubborn as the kid version she knew.

She looks away, “I don’t remember.”

“Yes, you do.”

She bites her lip. Yes, she does.

“Please? Just tell me.”

She doesn’t know if she can, but she can’t lie to her either. They turn the corner, away from the busy bars and clubs and people spilling out into the sidewalks, and onto a quieter, residential street.

Alex does her best to detach what actually happened from the emotional baggage she’s been carrying around since she was thirteen, “Well…after you moved, you shut me out. I tried to stay friends, to find out what happened, and if you were ok, and I—I thought it would getting better. But then your birthday…”

Maggie nods along, “You brought me the dollhouse. But then I got mad—and that’s all I remember.”

“That’s about it,” Alex shrugs, “You stopped talking to me after that.”

She knits her eyebrows, “Forever?”

“Pretty much. You made friends with Eliza, and you did everything she did. You were popular, and I…I never was. I got teased a lot, and…I don’t know…I stopped waiting.”

Maggie grabs Alex’s arm, and her grip is tight, “ _I_ teased you??”

“No,” Alex shakes her head. She takes the next couple steps a little to the side, just far enough so Maggie’s hand slips off of her arm somewhat naturally, “…but you never stopped them.”

Maggie’s chin tilts, “Them?”

“Your friends. Eliza.”

That might’ve been the wrong thing to say, but Maggie doesn’t get angry at Alex insulting her best friend, “I’m so sorry, Alex.”

“It was a long time ago, Maggie,” and it was. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t matter, or it didn’t affect who she became, but she’s not holding a grudge. She’s moved on.

“I—I’m not a good person.”

“Maggie…”

But she holds up her hand, “No. Don’t.”

They stop on the sidewalk, and Alex can see the unshed tears threatening in Maggie’s eyes. The smallest bit of her heart breaks a little. Maybe she should’ve lied about their past.

“Do you know who I am now?”

She doesn’t. She watches Maggie shift uncomfortably on the sidewalk.

“I…I don’t have any real friends. I did something bad with a married guy. I don’t talk to my mom and dad. I—I’m not a nice person.”

“Come on, Maggie…” Alex reaches out to try to comfort her, but Maggie pulls away.

“The thing is…I’m not thirteen anymore,” she gives Alex one last look then turns away, “I gotta go.”

“Maggie, wait!”

Alex could catch up if she wanted to, but she doesn’t know what she would possibly say.

…


	6. Razzle Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the real Chapter 6 please stand up?! 
> 
> I fixed it! Part of it was my own stupidity, part of it was forgetfulness, all of it was bad. This is the real Chapter 6. It will live here forever. 
> 
> (If you would like a longer explanation as to WTF happened, please see the end notes.) 
> 
> Happy reading!!

Maggie is hiding in her office.

When she got in this morning, she was bombarded by her assistant informing her that Eliza had been in and out of meetings at Lord Technologies—with no intention of including her.

The implication was not clear to Maggie, but it was to Arlene.

“She’s going to cut you out of this cover story. She’s going to take all the credit. And if she really _does_ have an exclusive—this article’s going to be _huge_.”

Maggie nodded along, “That’s good, right? Richard will be thrilled!”

But Arlene’s reaction said it was clearly not good, “No _,_ Ms. Sawyer. If this article is that big? He’s not going to need two editors-in-chief. He’ll just need the one.”

Her heart sinks, “Oh.”

But Arlene was all gumption, “So what can I do?”

Maggie couldn’t lose her job on top of everything else. She wouldn’t know what to do, “Nothing. I…I’ll fix this. Don’t worry. Thanks for letting me know.”

Arlene gave her a thumbs up and took off to answer the phones.

That was four hours ago.

She shoves her laptop aside, and slams her head down on the desk a little harder than she meant to.

She has no idea what to do.

A knock at the door makes her sit up, “Come in.”

Arlene looks worried, “Can I get you something for lunch?”

Maggie runs a hand through her hair, “Uh…sure. Thanks. Thai?”

“You got it.”

Maggie grabs her mug and downs the last of her now-cold coffee. It leaves a little ring on a news article tucked under her laptop. She slides it out and reads the headline:

_LUTHOR CORP NOW LCORP—LENA LUTHOR TO TAKEOVER FAMILY COMPANY_

There’s a photo of a well-dressed, dark-haired woman staring out of a window in a large, penthouse office. She’s clearly powerful, but there’s something relatable about her in that moment. Maggie can’t quite put her finger on it.

She reads the intro on the front page, and flips to the rest of the story on B11. It’s only a few paragraphs long, and it mostly asks a lot of unanswered questions about how the company will overcome Lillian Luthor’s arrest.

Every response from Lena Luthor is poised and professional, but the reporter was clearly biased. Quick to move on and try to veer the story back to Lillian’s criminal entanglements.

A quick Google search later, and Maggie finally has an idea.

“Arlene!”

…

She’s lugging her camera gear through downtown because…she’s insane, probably.

Maggie called a few days ago and asked to meet. She was vague on details, but assured Alex she’d explain it all over coffee.

So here she was, with thousands of dollars worth of camera equipment, trying to squeeze through a crowded café.

“Alex!”

Maggie waves her over to a table near a window in the back, and she’s relieved to see that she seems to be in a better mood than the last time they saw each other.

She stows her bag under the table, and Maggie slides a mug her way, “It’s a cappuccino. I didn’t know what you drank, but I didn’t want you to have to wait in that line.”

“Thanks,” she takes a sip, and Maggie smiles.

“Did you bring it?”

Alex gestures to the camera bag on the floor, “Yeah. I brought a few,” she looks around a little, “What are we doing here?”

“Not here,” Maggie grins. She turns and points out the window and across the street, “There.”

Alex nearly spits out her coffee, “ _There?_ ”

“I want to hire you—well, _Poise_ wants to hire you.”

She slides an envelope across the table and Alex takes it carefully. She peers inside and her heart nearly stops, “Whoa! No, no, no…”

“Oh! No! Sorry, that’s just the first half!” Maggie assures her, “You’ll get the rest when we’re done.”

It’s ten times more than Alex has made on any other job, and that’s _half_?? “I’m not gonna lie, I could really use this Maggie…but you don’t have to do me any favors.”

She frowns, “I’m not. You’re doing me a favor. I love your work.”

Alex is still confused, “But _that_? That doesn’t seem like your magazine…”

Maggie grins, “I know. That’s kind of the point.”

Alex leans over and gets a better look at the building in front of her, looking up 40 floors at the giant logo on top of the gleaming metal skyscraper: _LCORP_.

Damn if she isn’t curious, “Ok…so what are we doing?”

The mischievous dimpled grin she gets in return takes her back to so many moments from their childhood. If memory serves her right, this is either going to be a great idea—or a terrible one.

…

Maggie has been watching Alex work in a bit of a trance. She can’t help it. It’s mesmerizing.

The photoshoot is going better than she imagined. Alex is in her element here. She’s perfect. She knows what she wants, and exactly how to get it—and even Lena Luthor, who Maggie had met a few times already, trusted her almost instantly.

And they were just getting started.

They photograph Lena’s office, the labs, and the prototypes—but they also focus on the smaller aspects of the company. They photograph the sponsored t-ball teams, and the janitorial staff. College students with LCorp scholarships, and even the elevator attendant.

They spend an entire day inside the Children’s Hospital, and it’s easily the best day Maggie’s can remember.

She’s determined to show the good that comes from the company now. Maybe _Poise_ chose the wrong Luthor to support the first time around, but this was a story that deserved telling.

By the end of the week, Maggie’s exhausted and exhilarated.

It’s midnight, and she and Alex have been in Alex’s studio, going over proofs for _hours_.

They’ve gone from focused, to tired, to slap-happy, and now were about ten minutes away from hitting the wall. Even coffee could no longer save them.

Alex runs her hands over her face, but Maggie can see her exhaustion, “Ok, how about this?” She shuffles the photos around a little, trying to fit them in a layout that works, but it looks almost the same as the last ten layouts—and it’s still not right.

Maggie gives up. She lays down on the cement floor and covers her face with her arm, “My brain is broken.”

Alex laughs and sits on the office chair beside where Maggie is laying, “We should try again in the morning. We’re not getting anywhere tonight.”

She agrees—but she doesn’t want to leave. Being with Alex all week left her buzzing from the inside out. She watches her now, lazily spinning around in the chair, and it feels…right. It feels like normal, being with her all the time. Like it did when they were kids.

“I have to present this on Monday—and it’s _great_. These photos are incredible, Alex, really. But it’s missing…something. It needs…pizzazz. Dazzle!” She throws her arms up in the air and they land back on the floor with a _slap._

Alex stops spinning to look down at her, confused, “Your magazine needs Razzles?”

She shoots up, eyes wide, “I NEED RAZZLES.”

Alex laughs, “You’re delirious. You need _sleep_.”

Maggie hops to her feet as quick as she can, “Nope. Razzles. No take-backs.”

She shakes her head, “Where are we gonna get Razzles at…” she checks her watch, “12:20am!”

“It’s New York City! We can get anything we want at 12:20am!”

Alex opens her mouth, and Maggie claps both hands over her ears to drown her out, “But NOT sleep!”

She’s 100% sure that’s what Alex was going to suggest.

She’s at the door before Alex is even out of her seat, “It’s the city that _never_ sleeps, Danvers. Now come on! Razzles!”

…

They’re walking along the river, and Alex feels lighter than she has in a long time. Her life’s been good lately, she’s been happy. But this week, while she wasn’t paying attention, she got back something she never realized she’d been missing: her best friend.

She has Kara, of course. She always will. But Kara’s also her sister, so it’s a little different.

And Vicki is absolutely her best friend—and her fiancée—but that’s not quite the same either.

She never expected to talk to Maggie Sawyer again. And even after she stumbled back into her life a few weeks ago, she never thought they’d be giggling, eating Razzles at midnight, and spending hours at a time together.

“Thank you for all your help this week, Alex.”

Alex grins, “I had a lot of fun. I think the feature is going to be great. You should be very proud, Maggie.”

Maggie nods and pops another Razzle in her mouth, “Hey Alex?”

Her voice is a little quieter, so Alex stops to turn around, “Yeah?”

“What color is my tongue?”

She sticks out her tongue as far as it will go, and Alex grimaces, “What? It’s—I don’t know…it’s red.”

But that familiar mischief is in her eye, “Red-red? Or tongue red?”

Maggie sticks out her tongue again, crossing her eyes for extra effect, and Alex wishes she had her camera. This photo could be blackmail for _years_.

Instead, she rolls her eyes, “Razzle red.”

She turns to keep walking but Maggie doesn’t move, “Show me yours.”

There’s no way she heard that correctly, “What?!”

“Show me your tongue! C’mon. I showed you mine.”

She’s practically shouting in the middle of the street, and Alex can feel her cheeks on fire, “I am _not_ showing you my tongue!”

But Maggie’s not giving in, “Show me your tongue! C’mon Alex. I showed you mine.”

“I didn’t ask to see yours!”

Maggie stares and lowers her voice very seriously, “Alex! I need to see your tongue.”

Eventually, she sighs and sticks out her tongue for a half a second—no more.

Maggie beams, “Razzle red.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's what happened:
> 
> \- About 2,000 words were left out of (what I will now call) Fake Ch 6.  
> \- Those 2k words had been written for so long, that I think I thought they were already posted.  
> \- I was already struggling with the storyline, so even if the 2k words had been put back, I wasn't *super* happy with Fake Ch 6 anyway.  
> \- SO I DELETED IT.   
> *poof*   
> \- It never existed.  
> \- I regrouped and worked out the story in a better, less complicated way that I am much happier with.  
> \- I sought advice from my Expert Council (PZipps. Glasses.)  
> \- Now we have Real Ch. 6!
> 
> YAY!


	7. Do You Ever Wish You Could Go Back?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading! :)
> 
> I'm definitely gonna make my Dec. 1st deadline, but not sure I'll have it completed before Thanksgiving (which is...ya know...tomorrow).

Alex steps out of the bathroom dressed in the nicest outfit she’s probably ever worn. It’s a simple, sleeveless, navy blue jumpsuit that Kara had gotten from someone at CatCo—but she’s pretty sure is more expensive than the wedding gown currently hanging up at her mom’s house.

She curled her hair a bit, put on makeup, and even pulled out a pair of heels.

It feels a little like she’s playing dress up.

As she’s standing at the table, rechecking her camera gear, she can feel Vicki watching her. She glances over to the living room, “Eyes up here, babe.”

She meets her gaze, “Just…making sure everything’s, ya know, in place and…” she trails off at the same time her eyes wander away.

“Victoria!”

She snaps her head up with a smug grin, “I’m not even sorry. You look _good_.”

Alex stands a little straighter, “Thank you. I just wish you could come to this stupid gala with me,” she pouts.

“Ughh. Don’t remind me! You know attending a ball and/or gala is on my bucket list! And The Luthor Children’s Hospital Gala?? It’s supposed to be incredible.”

“Maybe if I wasn’t wearing this contraption…”

“Oh no—that’s definitely incredible,” Vicki stands from where she was curled up in the corner of the couch, and wraps two arms around Alex’s waist, frowning, “Dumb work conference. What’s so great about Miami anyway?”

“The beach? The weather? The food? Th—”

“Rhetorical, Alex.”

“Right,” she frowns, “Anyway it’s fine. I’ll be working all night…somehow, in this outfit…” She hadn’t really considered that until now. “Plus I promised Kara that I’d inspect our place cards and centerpieces. So I’ll probably spend the night over there.”

“Ooooh. Sounds very important.”

She scrunches up her face, “Ya know, I’m starting to wonder if you planned this conference just to get out of these annoying wedding details…”

Vicki quickly averts her eyes, “Definitely not…”

“Oh my God, you did!”

Alex watches her fiancée turn a deep shade of red before she heads back to the bedroom to get her suitcase, “I did not!”

But Vicki returns looking guilty, “Ok… _maybe_ my boss gave me a chance to switch to the conference next month, and I said no?” she winces.

“The one in Wisconsin?”

“Yes?”

Alex kisses her cheek, “Well, then I can hardly blame you. That sounds worse.”

The intercom buzzes and Alex checks the time, “Shoot! That’s the car. I gotta go.” She slings her smallest camera bag over her shoulder, laughing at how ridiculous it looks with her outfit, “This is…not ideal.”

“It’s gonna be great! Have fun. I’ll see you Thursday.”

She kisses Vicki goodbye, and prays that somehow, this might actually be even a little bit fun.

…

Downtown, Maggie’s standing outside of the five star hotel, pacing nervously in a gold, floor-length gown.

She’s never been to an event like this—that she remembers anyway. It’s much bigger and more intimidating than the magazine party a few weeks ago. Her whole body is on edge.

She came outside to settle her nerves, but every black sedan that pulled up made her heart jump, and every man in a tuxedo and woman dripping with diamonds made her feel more and more like the insecure thirteen year old she’d been trying to forget she was on the inside.

“You clean up nice, Maggie.”

She spins around at the familiar voice, and _wow_. Her heart stops at the sight of Alex Danvers in front of her. She tries to form thoughts into words, but her mind blanks.

As Alex strides over to her, Maggie’s frozen on the spot. The outfit hugs every one of Alex’s curves, and although it’s neither particularly tight or revealing, her gaze feels intrusive. She realizes she’s staring, and averts her eyes to her shoes instead.

“Oh…thanks.” She looks anywhere but at Alex, only giving her the smallest of glances before they head inside, “You—you look good too.”

 _Did she just say she looks good?_

She smiles, “Thanks. It’s a little more than I’m used to—I had to borrow this from Kara.”

They head inside, and Maggie remembers she still hasn’t seen the adult version of Kara Danvers. Although from everything Alex has said, it doesn’t sound like she’s changed much, “How is she?”

“Kara?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s good.”

They walk through the lobby of the hotel and down the hall toward the ballroom. Maggie attempts to steal a glance at Alex, but she’s finds her looking right back at her with the softest smile—she trips.

“Whoa!” one arm is under her elbow and another is around her waist in half a second. Her stomach twists, and every place Alex is touching her tingles.

She regains her balance and steps out of Alex’s reach, “Sorry. Thank you. I…uh, the heels are new. Still working on it,” she covers poorly.

“No problem.”

“Maggie! Alex!”

They both look toward the entrance of the gala to where Lena Luthor is waiting for them, elegant as ever in a dark red gown and her hair pulled back in a tight bun.

Maggie still has no idea how she manages to do that. Always poised. Always graceful. It was impressive. Although at this exact moment, it was a little annoying. Why couldn’t she be poised and graceful?

Still, she smiles, “Ms. Luthor, this is quite the event.”

“Thank you. It’s…tradition, I guess. LuthorCorp had fundraisers as well, but I’m going for a slightly different vibe tonight,” she grins.

“It’s amazing,” Alex agrees, “And they’re all ok with being photographed?”

“Are you kidding?” she laughs, “They only thing rich people love more than being rich, is showing off how rich they are. And I’m sure no one here will have a problem with you sharing with the world that they’re donating to a children’s hospital.”

Maggie takes in the expansive ballroom: the giant chandelier, the waiters in full tuxedos, and the elegance that seems to emanate from every corner of the room, “Well we’re very happy to report it.”

From inside the room, a glass shatters, and all three woman turn to see a middle-aged man, red-faced and rambling about whatever drink he’s just dropped on the floor.

Lena frowns, “Maybe try to get your shots before the open bar kicks in?”

Alex laughs, “Will do.”

Lena excuses herself, and Maggie tries to keep her expression indifferent—even though her stomach is a swarm of butterflies, “Um…shall we?”

“We shall.”

…

She lasted about thirty minutes in her heels.

At one point she even texted Vicki—although she knew she’d be flying and wouldn’t respond: _You’ll have to attend your ball and/or gala solo. Unless I’m allowed to go barefoot. Heels are evil._

Maggie took off to interview Lena again and get a few pull-quotes from other attendees at the party, while Alex weaved through guests, trying to live up to the expectations she knew Maggie had for her.

Under normal circumstances, she was her own worst critic. But the added pressure of potentially making or breaking Maggie’s career was an added weight she wasn’t expecting. She took the job as a favor—and because, selfishly, she knew she couldn’t turn down that kind of money—but she didn’t expect to enjoy or care about the project as much as she had.

Even tonight—heels aside—it was pretty great.

It’s after midnight when she finally starts packing up her gear. The party is nowhere near ready to die down, but any photos she got now wouldn’t be suited for Facebook, much less a cover story in _Poise_.

She’s at a back table, disassembling and wrapping up her camera, when a familiar piano trill thrums through the speakers. She drops the equipment and searches the room for Maggie.

Alex spots her in a corner, sipping champagne and laughing in a small cluster of guests. All night she felt like she was playing dress-up, but Maggie looks perfectly at home here. She wonders if she’s been kidding herself this week, thinking they could be friends again. Their lives were so different now, it seems impossible.

Maggie catches her eye, excuses herself, and meets her across the room, beaming, “Hey! Did you get what you need?”

She nods, “Definitely. Just one more thing: Will you dance with me? Please?”

…

Out on the dance floor, slowly swaying to the music, Maggie shakes her head at Alex’s insistence on dancing to this song.

“I know it’s late, and this is very random, but I love this song,” Alex smiles.

She listens along for a few beats, and it sounds vaguely familiar, but she can’t place it.

“I wanted to play it at the wedding, but Vicki says it’s ‘too depressing,’” she frowns.

Maggie listens closer, and it takes a few seconds, but she finally recognizes it. She cocks her head to the side, “Is this that oldies song from that romcom Kara made us watch 400 times?!”

“Um…it’s Billy Joel, and it’s a _classic_ ,” she scoffs.

Maggie laughs, watching the red creep up Alex’s cheeks, “Oh man, I know we’re getting old, but ‘ _it’s a classic_?’ Nice one, Dad.”

“Stoppppp,” she whines, dropping her head on Maggie’s shoulder.

They sway together for a few more steps, and when her laughter subsides, Maggie realizes just how close Alex is in this moment.

She can feel her breath on her neck, and smell her shampoo, and Alex’s hand on her waist might as well be seared into her side. A chill runs down her spine, and she tries to cover it by rolling her shoulders a little and faking a yawn.

Alex picks her head up and smiles at her, “Tired?”

Her stomach sinks at the loss of contact, but she smiles and nods, “Didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Oh. We can go,” Alex drops their hands a little, “Sorry, I—”

“No, no!” She squeezes Alex’s hand and flashes both dimples, “We can at least finish this dance.”

The slow grin on Alex’s face makes her heart feel like it’s pressing against her ribs. She feels the flutter of her stomach, but this time she doesn’t try to ignore it. She basks in this one moment, this one dance—and she wonders why only a few weeks ago, her thirteen year old self was so afraid of feeling like this.

…

Alex is beyond exhausted by the time she gets to her sister’s, but she’s also excited to see the pictures from the gala. She barely makes it through the door, when her phone buzzes.

_Vicki: Barefoot ball and/or gala it is. Just landed. Hope you had a fun night. Love you._

She drops her camera bag, kicks off her heels and starts to type out a response.

“Have fun?”

She yelps and drops her phone to the floor, her hand clutching her chest, “Jesus Christ, Mom. You trying to kill me?”

Eliza laughs, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you were Kara.”

Alex picks up the phone and looks around her sister’s apartment, “Wait—where is Kara? And what are you doing here?”

She gestures to the table full of neat, handwritten place cards, “Wedding prep.”

“Right.” She forgot all about that. Not the wedding—but that Eliza was going to be here to help out Kara this weekend.

“Kara went out for ice cream. She’ll be back soon.”

She walks toward her sister’s room, unzipping her outfit, and calls over her shoulder, “I want ice cream!”

Another laugh, “I’m sure she’ll bring enough for all of us…times five.”

She chucks the jumpsuit on Kara’s bed, and changes into a pair of sweats before going back to the living room. She flops on the couch next to her mom and leans on her shoulder, her eyelids suddenly unable to stay open.

Eliza kisses the top of her head, “So how was the gala?”

She refuses to open her eyes, “Good. Fun.”

“And how’s Maggie?”

“Good. Fine.”

The hum from her mother makes her look, “What, Mom?”

“Nothing. I just…I hope you’re being careful, Alexandra.”

Well, now she’s awake, “Careful? Careful about what?”

“You two seem to be awfully close, I—”

But she won’t listen to another word. She springs to her feet, “Don’t you dare. Jesus, Mom—we’re friends. I _love_ Vicki. Nothing about that has changed.”

“I’m not saying that!” she interrupts, “I’m—sit down, please?” she sighs.

After a short staring contest, she gives in.

Her mom’s voice is softer, “I’m not worried about your feelings, Alex. I know how much you love Vicki. I—I’m worried about you being careful with _Maggie’s_ feelings.”

She balks, “What? What are you even talking about?”

Alex can see the internal argument play out on her mom’s face.She’s hiding something, and she’s trying to decide how much of the truth Alex gets to know. She’s hated that look since she was a kid. She wants to know everything. She needs all the facts so she can come to a logical conclusion.

Eliza puts her hand on Alex’s knee, “You don’t know the whole truth about what happened with the Sawyers.”

…

She can hear the shouting from the hallway, and it takes way longer than she wants to to open the door because she’s juggling six pints of ice cream in her arms.

“How come you never told me?!”

So Alex is back from the gala, then.

Kara shoves open the door and they’re facing off in the living room. Eliza looks heartbroken, “I didn’t know how, Alex.”

“You tell the truth. It’s not that hard,” she spits.

“I didn’t know what the truth was!”

“What’s going on?”

Neither one even looks her way.

Alex slumps down in a chair, “God. Even after…after I…”

Kara drops the ice cream in the kitchen and stands near the living room, careful to stay out of the line of fire, but close enough to play referee if she’s needed.

Eliza takes a seat opposite Alex, giving her space, “Especially after you came out, Alex. How could I? You were so scared of what we might do…”

She backs away, busing herself with the ice cream and trying to make herself as small as possible. This is suddenly a conversation she doesn’t want to be a part of.

“You still could’ve told me.”

“Alex, she was _thirteen_. You were kids, and it was a rumor. Do you honestly think that’s the kind of person I am?”

“No, mom. Of course not—I just—”

“And by the time you came out in college, it barely crossed my mind. You hadn’t been friends for nearly a decade.” Eliza leans forward and stares at Alex, “That poor girl lost her home overnight. I couldn’t let her lose ours too.”

“She wouldn’t have!”

Deep in her chest, Kara’s heart aches, “You don’t know that, Alex.”

Both heads turn to her like they just remembered she was there, and she blushes under the sudden attention.

“Sorry…but I lost my home overnight. My family. And kids can be…” she can’t even look at her when she says it, “cruel.”

One glance, and she can see the tears forming in her sister’s eyes, “Kara…”

It didn’t take long for Alex to be a great sister—but those first few weeks were some of the hardest of her life. She hardly thinks about it now, but those memories are still there, buried deep under decades of great ones.

She sits down next to her and takes her hand, “You are an amazing person, Alex. My favorite person, in fact. But at thirteen? None of us were our best selves. You don’t know how you would’ve reacted.”

Eliza looks between them both, “You’re adults now. It’s different. And the last couple weeks, you seem to have gotten close. I’m happy for you, sweetheart. You two were inseparable, and it’s nice to see that side of you again. I just…I want you to be careful, ok?”

“Yeah. Ok,” she mutters.

Kara kisses her sister’s shoulder and stands up, “This seems like the perfect time for ice cream,” she grins.

Both Alex and Eliza roll their eyes and laugh. She grabs as many pints as she can hold and a few spoons, then joins Eliza on the couch.

Alex squeezes next to her other side, and snatches a pint from her hands, “Dibs on chocolate peanut butter.”

…

She practically floated home after their dance, but in the quiet apartment, Maggie asks herself the same question: _Why was she so afraid of feeling like this?_

After replaying most of the night in her head, she’s lying awake in bed, and the answer hits her like a ton of bricks: _because her parents kicked her out for feeling like this_.

 

She doesn’t need the alarm clock on Sunday morning. And although she knows her presentation is due first thing tomorrow, she has somewhere she needs to be right now.

She wasn’t nervous until the the doorbell rang, but the door opens so quickly, that Maggie can’t back out even if she wanted to.

“Maggie? What are you—”

The dark hair and dimples are just like she remembers—and the same as hers, always—but time has hardly aged her aunt, and she’s not sure if it’s that, or the way she’s looking at her that makes her break down in tears instantly.

She hugs her tight, and is relieved when Christina hugs her right back. She’s pretty sure her tears are ruining her shirt, but hopefully she won’t mind. She didn’t realize how much she missed her until she’s standing here, wrapped tight in her arms. She forgot her aunt could make her feel this loved. The last conversations she remembers…Maggie was so mean to her. She pours every apology for slamming doors, and skipping school, and ignoring her into the hug.

Christina squeezes her gently, “Maggie? Is everything ok?”

Maggie doesn’t know how to answer that, so she kind of nods and shrugs.

“Come here, come inside.”

…

She follows her aunt back into the house, and she’s grateful how familiar it all feels. Some things are a little newer, a little nicer, but it feels like home—although she’s not sure it ever felt like that at thirteen.

They sit next to each other in the living room, and Maggie looks around for signs of what her aunt is like now, but there’s not really much to go on. She seems the same as when she left.

“What’s going on?”

That’s a loaded question. She bites her lip, “I just…I need to know what happened.”

Her aunt looks confused, “What happened? What happened when?”

“I…” she sighs, she doesn’t know how to explain, but she doesn’t care, “I need to know what happened to me. Why I’m…like this. My life is terrible. How did I get here? Why don’t I come home for Christmas?”

Christina looks away, embarrassed, “I…I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

Maggie’s tears have stopped, but her aunt looks like she’s about to cry now. She smiles at her sadly, “I haven’t seen you in years, Maggie.”

“How long?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know…fifteen years or so? Not since the day I took you back.”

Ice flows through her veins. She’s stunned. She came here for answers, but apparently she went to the wrong place. That…that can’t be…

“You took me back?” she whispers, “I mean…yeah. You—you took me back…”

Her aunt looks curious now, and Maggie’s sure she’s suspicious, but she doesn’t care.

Christina stands and paces, her hands flying faster as she tries to explain herself, “It was a long time ago, Maggie. I know cutting them off wasn’t my best idea, but I was so angry. Not at you— _never_ you. But you didn’t want to talk to me, and they wanted me to pretend everything was fine. And I just couldn’t do that. After a while…” she stops and shrugs again, “I’m not proud,” she whispers.

These were not the answers she was looking for at all.

She reaches out and takes her aunt’s hand, and attempts a smile, “Well…that makes two of us then.”

Christina sits next to her on the couch, “I’m sorry, Maggie.”

She leans into her shoulder and closes her eyes, “Do you ever wish you could go back? Like…back to another time. If you were given one do-over—anything in your life—what would it be?”

“…nothing. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

She pops her eyes open and looks up at her aunt, “Really?!”

Christina’s arm wraps around her shoulder, “I’m not proud of what I did, Maggie, but I don’t know if I’d do it any differently.”

Maggie thinks about all the things she wishes were different in her life right now though, and it’s not just one thing. It seems she made every wrong decision, starting all the way back to her thirteenth birthday, “But did you ever make a big mistake? One that could change your life? What about that?”

Christina kisses the top of her head, “I made a lot of mistakes—including this one. But if I hadn’t made them, I couldn’t learn how to make things right.”

She twists her hands nervously in her lap, “…can we make this right?”

Her aunt smiles at her, “I would love that.”

…


	8. Razzle, Mrs. Flamhaff?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shhh...it's December 1st. I *totally* made this deadline. ;)
> 
> Better late than never, right?

Maggie spent all afternoon with her aunt, and left with that one sentence ringing in her head— _If I hadn’t made mistakes, I couldn’t learn how to make things right._

That’s exactly what she needs to do—make things right. Maybe she can’t go back to the past anymore, but she can still change her future.

And as she sits down to write her article, she realizes that’s exactly what Lena Luthor was trying to do too.

…

Standing in front of the entire staff—and a glare from Eliza Wilke that could probably burn a hole in the wall—Maggie’s regretting the two coffees she had this morning.

Her hands are shaking, so she puts them on her hips and addresses the room to finish her presentation, “People deserve second chances. By giving one to Lena Luthor and LCorp, we’re giving one to _Poise_ as well. Instead of distracting them with something shiny and new, we should show them that we’re going to work harder, be smarter, and make better choices.

“And yes—Lord Technologies is cool, and new, and shiny. But are the employees making a livable wage? Are Max Lord’s business practices respectable? A thirty minute internet search led me down a rabbit hole of shell corporations and questionable dealings. So what’s stopping our readers from learning _that_ side? We don’t want another Lillian Luthor situation on our hands.

“And I know we’re not CatCo. We aren’t known for asking or answering those kinds of questions…but we should start. _Poise_ is beauty, and fashion, and pop culture—yes. But we should also be intelligence, and integrity, and compassion. Because _that’s_ poise.”

There’s more notecards in her hands, but when the room breaks out into applause, she tucks them away. Near the door, Arlene is clapping furiously, stopping only to give her two thumbs up.

Richard stands up and shakes her hand firmly, “I think we found our cover story! Do we even need a vote?” he laughs.

She can feel her cheeks flush, and she’s never felt prouder.But when she looks out at the room again, she notices Eliza is gone.

…

She’s so excited to share the news with Alex, she doesn’t even call her. She jumps in a cab, runs up the stairs to Alex’s floor, rushes down the hallway, and knocks on the door.

But the face that greets her is not Alex—it’s Vicki.

“Maggie! Hi!”

She seems a little flustered, and she can see a suitcase in the living room, “Oh. Hi. Is Alex around?”

“Oh, no,” she frowns. “She’s at her mom’s already. I was supposed to be there too, but I have one last meeting tonight, and then I’m done with work until after the honeymoon!” she beams.

Maggie watches as her whole face lights up at that announcement. She smiles politely, “Right. It’s wedding week! Sorry, I forgot. Work’s been crazy…” she mutters, “I just came to tell Alex the presentation went well, but I guess I’ll call her.”

“Ok. Sounds good! I’ll see ya around!”

Vicki waves and closes the door, and Maggie stands there for a few seconds, unsure of what to do next. She wants to see Alex in person, but she’s not going to drive all the way out of the city just to tell her…nothing.

Nothing exciting enough to interrupt wedding plans, that’s for sure.

She probably doesn’t care anyway…not that she could blame her. If she was getting married, she wouldn’t care about anything else either.

…

The next morning at the office, everyone’s congratulating her, but she can barely fake a smile. She’d texted Alex last night, but hadn’t gotten more than _Congrats!_ back. 

She closes the door to her office and slumps down in her chair, staring blankly at the layout board on the other side of the room. When the door opens, she expects Arlene, but is surprised to see Eliza leering over her desk looking smug.

“Hey, Eliza.”

She says nothing, just tosses a packet of papers on Maggie’s desk. It’s a photo release contract with every one of Alex’s photos behind it.

Maggie picks it up, confused, “What’s this?”

Eliza crosses her arms, “You’re going to have Alex Danvers sign that.”

“I already did. Legal has it now.”

“This is a release to _me_ for those photos.”

Now, she stands up, “And why would I release them to you?”

Eliza holds up a file folder in her hand, “Because you’re going to give me your entire cover story—including pictures—or I’m going to send _this_ ” she tosses it on the desk too, “to every gossip magazine in the city.”

Maggie grabs the folder and opens it, but there’s only one photo inside: a photo of Maggie and Alex, standing inches apart, grinning in each other’s arms, all dressed up and dancing at the LCorp fundraiser.

She thinks she might throw up. She sits down and takes a deep breath, “Where-where did you even get this?”

“I have my sources,” she shrugs coolly.

Maggie slams the folder shut, willing the tears that are stinging her eyes not to fall, “You can’t do this.”

Eliza leans over the desk, leering, “You stole my cover story out from underneath me, nearly got me fired, and you’re going to makethe villain here?! I got you this job! Hell, I got you all of this,” she gestures around the office.

Then she smiles wickedly, “Besides, you’ve had a crush on that girl since the day I met you…isn’t it about time she knew? I’m doing you a favor.”

If the rest of it weren’t enough, that last sentence is a slap across the face. Before Maggie can even get her brain to respond, Eliza walks out of the room, stopping at the door, “You have 24 hours.”

…

Why she thought spending a week at her mom’s house was a good idea, is beyond her.

Kara suddenly barges into her bedroom—again without knocking—and Alex jumps, “Kara! You _have_ to knock! Jesus…”

She closes her eyes and settles her heart rate, “Vicki only ran to the store, and you’re going to give me a heart attack! I keep thinking it’s her walking in here, not you—ya doofus.”

But Kara hugs her tight and they both know she’s already forgiven, “Sorry! I didn’t think you’d tell me when you had the dress on! If I knocked, you wouldn’t have let me in!”

She rolls her eyes, “Yes, I would. And I don’t have it on yet anyway, because I’m waiting for Mom. I’m only doing this once before Saturday.”

The doorbell rings, and Kara heads out of the room to answer it—it’s probably the pizza they ordered, “Eliza will be back in a minute! So chop chop!”

She disappears down the hall, and Alex yells loud enough for her voice to carry, “Kara Danvers, you better not eat all that pizza!”

Alex debates getting food before putting on her dress, but if she’s not wearing the dress when her mom comes back, she knows she’ll get a lecture. She strips out of her sweats and pulls the dress on, careful not to get a spec of dirt or a smudge of makeup on the pristine, white gown.

The knock at the door makes her grin, “ _Yes_ , you nerd. You can come in.”

She spins around and her eyes fly wide at the sight of Maggie Sawyer standing in front of her, “Maggie?”

…

The sight of Alex Danvers in a wedding gown nearly knocks her over. It’s a full ten seconds before she can even remember why she’s standing here in the first place. Her heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of her chest, “Um…sorry. I didn’t—I thought the wedding was Saturday…”

She grins and blushes, and it only makes her look more stunning, “It is. I’m trying on my dress for my mom and Kara while Vicki’s out for a little while.”

“Oh.”

Her brow furrows, “What…uh…what are you doing here?”

She can’t remember. All she can focus on is Alex in the simple, white, lace gown. She blinks a few times, “Oh! Nothing important…it’s just…the presentation…”

“Of course!”

Maggie finds herself tugged into the room and into a hug quicker than she can react.

Alex pulls back, beaming, “Vicki told me it went well! Sorry I didn’t get a chance to really talk to you. It’s been busy over here…”

“No, no! Of course. I didn’t mean to bother you. I know…you have a lot to do. It’s a big week…”

Her throat feels like sandpaper. She doesn’t know how to tell Alex that Eliza is threatening to blackmail them both on the most important week of Alex’s life. She looks happier than Maggie has ever seen her, and she doesn’t want to do anything to ruin it.

She looks at her again, the happiness practically radiating off of her. Maggie forces a smile, “Turn around.”

Alex furrows her brow.

“Your zipper. I’ll get it. Turn around.”

Alex does as she’s instructed, and Maggie’s hands shake as she grabs the tiny zipper.

“Thanks. I was gonna have Kara do that. It’s a little ridiculous that on the biggest day of my life, I can’t even get myself dressed,” she laughs.

Her insides twist, even as her heart swells. It’s everything she ever wanted, right here in her hands—but none of it is hers.

Maggie swallows hard, “I think it’s kind of nice, actually. On the day when you’re surrounded by all the people who love you the most, a small reminder that you’ll never have to be alone again.”

“Hmm. I never thought of it that way…I guess that sounds nicer than my version: a conglomerate of evil wedding gown designers just trying to spite me,” she grins.

She pulls the zipper all the way up and fastens the little hook at the top, then looks over Alex’s shoulder at their reflection in the mirror, “Perfect,” she whispers, _you’re perfect_ , her mind practically screams.

“You really think so?”

“Of course.”

Alex spins around so they’re face to face, and Maggie would give everything she has—her fancy job, her giant closet, her nice apartment, every limo ride and every party—just to kiss her right now. Instead, she crosses her arms, “I-I should go.”

“Oh, ok,” she frowns.

“Yeah. I-I just came to tell you that the presentation went well. That’s all,” she starts backing out the door, “I’ll see you after…after you’re back in the city.” She can’t force the word  _wedding_ out of her mouth, “Oh! And I’ll send you a copy when the magazine goes to print.”

Maggie takes one last, long look at her, and smiles brightly with both dimples, “Congratulations, Alex.”

She shuts the door to Alex’s room behind her and runs out of the Danvers’ house as quickly as she can. Tears spill down her cheeks immediately, so she can hardly see, then she crashes into something—or someone—somewhere in the middle of the front yard.

There’s a loud thud, and the folded up photo in her hand goes flying. She scrambles to find it, wiping her tears on her sleeve. But when she can finally see clearly again, Kara Danvers is staring back at her.

She hasn’t seen her in years, but it couldn’t be anyone else, “Kara! Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry about that! Didn’t see you over this stupid box…”

She looks around the yard, at the box of books and knickknacks that’s spilled all over, and sees the photo lying between them both. Kara reaches for it, and her stomach sinks.

“I think this is your—is this you and Alex?”

She looks down at the photo, and Maggie cringes, “Um…yeah. But it’s nothing.”

Kara looks it over with a grin, “I’m happy you guys are friends again. We missed you.”

Maggie brushes invisible dirt off her jeans to avoid eye contact, “Yeah…hopefully we’ll still be friends tomorrow…” she mumbles.

“Huh?”

She didn’t realize she said that out loud. She reaches for the photo in Kara’s hands, “Nothing, sorry. I’m glad we’re friends again too.”

Kara stares at the picture and holds it out to Maggie, “Ya know, this is exactly how I remember you guys. Always together. Always laughing. I never had a friend like that.”

Maggie stares at it again. _Friends._ That’s all she sees. That’s probably all anyone would see. 

It suddenly occurs to her that it doesn’t matter if that picture was released or not, because Eliza’s already won. She knows her biggest secret, and she’s willing to ruin her entire life, and the life of anyone she cares about, just to win.

Maggie doesn’t want to win like that—or at all, she’s pretty sure. Sheonly wants Alex.

And she’ll never have her.

“I should get back inside,” Kara looks around the yard and starts putting the scattered things back in the box, “Vicki’s family is staying here for the wedding, so we’ve been clearing out all this old junk from our rooms to make it a little nicer. I didn’t realize we saved so much crap!”

Maggie helps her clean up, and puts a couple things in the box, but she freezes at the sight of a small, pink packet: _Wishing Dust_. She grips it tight, “Hey, Kara?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I…um…” her cheeks flush, but she holds out the little packet, “Can I have this?”

She shrugs, “Sure,” then she grins, “Although fair warning—one time I wished for a pony, and it _never_ came true.”

Maggie smiles as they both stand up, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

…

She walks the short way to her aunt’s house, and Christina once again welcomes her with open arms.

Late that night, in her old bedroom, Maggie takes a box down from the closet and sets it at the foot of her bed. She grabs the packet of wishing dust and sprinkles it over the whole dream house.

She picks up the little cutout from the living room—the photo of her and Alex, dancing around her ugly, pink bedroom the night before…before everything was ruined.

She closes her eyes tight, “I know this is bigger than a pony, but…”

.

.

.

.

.

When she wakes up, it’s not dark outside anymore. She reaches out until she finds the alarm clock: 9:37am.

One look around the room, and Maggie realizes she’s still in her Aunt Christina’s house. Her hands do a quick once-over, and the lack of boobs confirms she's definitely thirteen again. The dream house is now sitting in the corner where she kicked it when she got angry.

She jumps out of bed and runs full speed down the hall, scaring her aunt, who’s watching TV in the living room.

“Maggie! What’s the matter?”

There’s no way she can explain that right now, “What day is it?”

“Saturday…” she says hesitantly.

“No! No! What _day_ is it?! What’s the date?!”

Christina looks worried, “June 18th?”

The tears fall immediately and she hugs herself tight, “No, no, no, no…” Sentences don’t have time to fully form as she tries to spit out words as fast as she can, “We-we need to go. We need to leave right now. I’m so late. She’s going to hate me. I missed a month! I have to go. We have to go.”

“Hey, come here.”

Her aunt wraps her in a tight hug, and she cries harder, “I’m so sorry, Aunt Christina. I’m sorry I was mean. I’m sorry I was so mad at you. It’s not your fault. I promise I can be better. I promise. But we really, _really_ need to go. Right now. We’re gonna be late!”

Christina pulls her back by her shoulders, “Late for what?”

…

When they pull up to the Danvers’ house, everything feels wrong.

There are cars parked in the driveway and all along the street, and people in dress clothes walking in and out of their house. She doesn’t even have to ring the doorbell, she just slips inside with a couple adults and starts looking for her best friend.

She peeks into the living room and stops dead in her tracks.

The whole room is full of people all dressed in black and crowded around Eliza. A framed photo of Jeremiah is set up on a table full of flowers.

Maggie sprints up the stairs to Alex’s room as fast as she can, and turns the doorknob slowly, “Alex?”

There’s no answer, but she can hear crying. Her eyes adjust to the dim room, and she sees Alex curled into a ball, in the corner of the bed, facing the wall.

She carefully sits next to her and puts a hand on her shoulder, “Alex?” she whispers.

Slowly, Alex rolls over to face her, wiping her eyes and clearly confused. She jerks her arm away from her touch, “What are you doing here?”

It cuts like a knife, but she deserves it.

She wants to apologize, she wants to take back all the mean things she said and did when she was angry, she wants to explain why she acted that way in the first place—and she wants desperately to tell Alex how much she loves her.

But right now, all she can do is apologize, “I’m so sorry, Alex.”

Fresh tears well in Alex’s eyes, but to her surprise, she buries her head in Maggie’s chest and hugs her tight, “He’s gone, Maggie. He’s never coming back.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” 

Alex wipes her tears on her sleeve and shrugs, “You’re here now.”

“Yeah. And I’m not going anywhere,” she promises.

Alex sizes her up, and Maggie wonders if she’s still wanted here. Maybe she should leave. Maybe she should come back another day. Her head is still kind of spinning from all of the information she’s trying desperately to put together.

“What if-what if I run away and never come back?” Alex mumbles.

She smiles a little, “Then I’ll drive the boat.” 

Alex laughs thickly, then lays her head down on Maggie’s lap, “You don’t _drive_ a boat,” she sighs.

Maggie leans back against the pillows, rolling her eyes, “Fine. Captain. I will  _captain_ the boat.”

The room is silent for a bit, and Maggie wonders if Alex fell asleep. She looks down and sees her staring up at her.

 “Promise?”

She nods, “Promise.”

Eventually, they both drift off to sleep.

.

.

.

.

.

Maggie wakes up with a weight against her side, and inches closer to the warmth in her half-asleep state.

When she finally cracks open her eyes and sees the large dog asleep in her arms, she jumps, “Alex?” she calls groggily.

Big brown eyes peer around the corner, followed by a soft smile, “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

That voice is low and sweet, and calms every inch of her body. The images from her dreams fade, and the vision of her wife gets clearer and clearer, “Much better…” she smiles to herself. “What time is it?”

“About three? You fell asleep about an hour ago,” then Alex flashes a confused and cocky little grin, “Wait—better than what?”

Maggie rubs her eyes and Alex sits next to her on the couch. She sits up for only a second before immediately curling into her side, “My dream. I had the weirdest dream…”

Seventeen years later, and that’s what it is: a dream.

She’s dreamt it a few times, and it’s always so vivid. Every time she wakes up, she wonders…

Alex’s kiss on her forehead lingers, “A dream about what?”

She never told Alex about it. The first time it happened, they were thirteen. Maggie had gone to Alex’s to apologize, but when she found out Jeremiah had died, she had forgotten instantly anything she planned on telling her, except how sorry she was.

It happened again in college, and maybe once or twice since then.But every time she woke up, and the harder she tried to remember, the quicker it all seemed to fade.

She tries to remember now, “Us? Kinda…? But not like this…” she tries to pull the dream back into focus, “It was my birthday…?”

She watches Alex wiggle her eyebrows, “A good dream, then?”

Maggie laughs, “No—yes? But not—not like that… My thirteenth birthday.”

She swears she can hear Alex’s heart stop, just like she can feel her stiffen slightly, “Oh…”

She gets a little frown on her face and bites at her lip, so Maggie kisses her, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she responds automatically, but now she looks concerned, “You ok?”

“I’m fine. It was just…so real.”

Alex kicks her feet up on the coffee table and they both snuggle deeper into the couch, “What else happened?”

“It was us, you know? Thirteen. You brought me my dream house—”

She winces, “Not my finest moment.”

“No! It was perfect. I just didn’t know it right away. But then I woke up—in my dream, I woke up—and I was…me. Like now. I was thirty.”

“So it was now?”

“That’s the weird part. It was nothing like this. I worked at _Poise_ magazine _,_ with…Eliza Wilke?” she makes a face and Alex bites back a smirk, “and I lived with some dude that I _think—_ ” she cringes, “I think I was pretending to date—or _was_ dating? And you were there too, but not…not like this.”

“Naked?” Alex deadpans.

Maggie snorts and elbows her, “I wish. You were…” she thinks hard, then she jumps, “Oh my god!”

She sits up suddenly, caught between shock and laughter, and Alex looks worried, “What?! You have to tell me!”

Maggie shakes her head, but Alex makes this very offended face, and then she starts to pout, and Maggie caves, “…you were…getting married,” she says carefully.

“To _whom_?”

She grins, “Ok, one: I love that you used ‘whom’ even in your shocked, accusatory state—you _nerd._ And two: I don’t know! Not me. Someone else. A teacher or something…?” She shuts her eyes and tries to bring back the image, “She was kinda familiar though…”

Her eyes pop open, “Oh my god. That TA. The TA from your senior year.”

Alex raises an eyebrow, “Vicki Donahue?”

“Yes! You were marrying Vicki Donahue!” she laughs.

Now Alex looks caught between shock and laughter. She kisses Maggie’s nose, “Ok, no more coffee after lunch. Maybe we should switch to tea…” She tilts her chin, “Although I think she wound up marrying this cute French girl while studying abroad, so…” she shrugs.

“Hey!”

Alex laughs, “I’m just saying, the woman’s got taste, ok?”

She shakes her head, but before she can say another word, there’s a knock at the front door, paws scraping against the hardwood floors, and a ruckus of barking and whining.

Alex rolls her eyes, “Gertrude, calm _down_. It’s just the mailman.”

Maggie looks around the empty room filled with boxes and jumps up, “Our first piece of mail!”

She opens the front door and grabs the single postcard for some discount to a local coffee shop, and flips it over, frowning, “Well, that’s disappointing.”

“What?”

She sits down next to Alex and holds it up, “It’s not even addressed to us!”

Alex reads the postcard and smirks, “What is _that_ name? Flam-Flamhaff?”

Maggie shrugs, “Still counts.”

Alex pulls a crumpled package from her pocket, “Razzle, Mrs. Flamhaff?”

She shakes a few candies into her hand, and Maggie laughs, “Thank you, Mrs. Flamhaff!”

“You know, we’ve been trying to figure out how to combine our last names…maybe we should just change it altogether!”

Maggie turns to her wife and kisses her soundly. She pulls back with a grin, “I love you…Alex Flamhaff.”

Alex snorts and shoves her away. Maggie snuggles back into her side, still giggling, and Alex wraps an arm around her again, “On second thought, I think I’ll stick with Danvers.”

…


End file.
